


My Feelings Are In A Coma (I Just want to wake up)

by AgentRed



Series: Jaybird [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Batbrothers (DCU), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Everyone Needs A Hug, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, I should be able to continue in summer at least, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm learning to tag, I've just ran out of motivation for this, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd and Damian Wayne Meet in the League of Assassins, Jason Todd is Bad at Feelings, Jason Todd-centric, Not Beta Read, On Hiatus, Resurrected Jason Todd, Swearing, Talking To Dead People
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 22,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23435908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentRed/pseuds/AgentRed
Summary: Written after Season 3 of Young Justice - I couldn't stop myself.Jason Todd can't stop himself from searching, he doesn't know why. Devoid of feelings, he's unaware of who he is but knows so much more than what a normal assassin would know.Leaving a life behind a second time - or perhaps a third, he certainly doesn't know - Jason returns to the familiar streets of Gotham and tries to find himself.But how can he find himself if he just keeps hiding? Maybe the ghosts will help.
Relationships: Artemis Crock & Dick Grayson, Bizarro (DCU) & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & The Team (Young Justice), Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Willis Todd, Justice League & The Team (Young Justice), Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Series: Jaybird [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685890
Comments: 77
Kudos: 494





	1. Die Young

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiii! Feeling anxious ngl. 
> 
> Please give me feedback, even simple kudos helps!
> 
> This is my first fic and I'm writing it on my phone when I can so there will be unreliable updates. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, have a nice day and be safe!
> 
> (Chapter title: Die Young is a song by Grandson)

Recovering from being in a catatonic state had never been covered in any of his lessons, regardless of origin. Being on the run however did bare fruits. He was trained to disappear by the streets, Batman(though both memories were blurry) and the Al Ghul's many teachers. Even as he hid among cargo, his many lessons came in handy.

He wasn't sure where to go but set course for Gotham, with the choice of Happy Harbour on the way. Though he wasn't sure he wanted to see the team, new members and possible replacements, he kept the option open as he hadn't yet decided how he felt about anything, the result of the long period of staying catatonic. He could only think that he should hope for his feelings to return.

He had more pressing matters than his emotions though. Such as the transparent figures he saw everywhere. Now that he could actually think, he could question the abnormally, as others seemed to ignore these creatures. 

Ghosts, his memory supplied, though he wasn't sure if he should call them that. They seemed to have different reactions to the living, anger, sadness, disgust... He knew there were meant to be more words, better words to describe them but he... He could only recall blurry letters and mumbled words. He was careful not to look at the ghosts, not wanting to draw attention to himself more than his appearance already did.

Red mask, red-eyed domino, still wearing the clothes and armor Talia gave him but the black version, the red in a bag. Under the domino, toxic green eyes that sometimes dimmed down to a greyish blue.

What's more, he remembered everyone's name except his own and he didn't know why. He knew information about others but, without emotions to go with any bit of data, he didn't know much of anything about himself. He was referred to as 'Talia's pet' and 'Red' among other things.

He... He didn't know what to do.

All he could do now was wait in the ships cargo, listening to the ghosts and be on alert for any disturbances. There was all sorts down here, from smuggling ghosts to toilet paper stocks.

Curling up against some boxes, he waited out the duration of the trip with movements only to hide or steal some supplies. When they arrived at the harbour, he was quick to slip out and, under the cover of the night, disappear, falling into place with the shadows. 

He ran along the docks, using the warehouses to hide easily. It wasn't long before he came across a vehicle of interest. He was trained to figure out these things and saw a Gotham drug dealers truck, recognisable thanks to the purple and green trim within and model. He guessed they hadn't been put to a stop yet and he could use that to his advantage.

Thankfully, when he slipped through open doors, there was plenty of stuff to hide behind, boxes and crates stashed haphazardly and a few bags tossed in randomly.

He felt a little uncomfortable hiding in such a confined space but, not knowing any better, just brushed it off as instinct. The truck was soon moving and he settled, after a brief hiding from the owner, who had came to check the doors. The choice of Happy Harbour depleted. For now. 

He was on the roof tops of Gotham within a day.


	2. Where's Your Brother?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little friend in the horizon of a city drenched in blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, right after the first to give ya guys some more to read if you want to.
> 
> (Chapter Title: from song 'Cain' by Cousin Marnie)

Going by Red was much easier on the crime riddled streets than he expected. He stole the profits of drug trade and beat down any hostility with laughable ease while going about his business without having to buy too much. Red bought neccessarities and a set of casual but practical clothing for the day time, along with a pair of sunglasses. He didn't know who would recognise him and didn't want to take any too large a risk.

Currently, he was staking out a new hideout, a habit he had developed to try make sure he had multiple safe points around the city. He didn't expect to be able to keep them all but just wanted an possible location to retreat to.

Red teetered on the railing of the mossy balcony, an abandoned plant pot spilling its contents across the surface and flourishing in the Gotham weather despite the pollution. His bag leaned against the doorframe, door slightly ajar from his earlier exploration. There was an increase of cold on his right but he ignored it in favour of being on alert. 

He peered at the street below, taking note of the people passing and the direction they went. Red could tell a lot from their body language and could guess on their destination, helping him figure out the general population around the abandoned apartment he hoped to claim. He stated there for hours before he decided he'd done enough surveillance. 

Dark clouds covered the moon as the male turned, hopping off the railing and scooping down to pick up his bag. Passing the threshold of the apartment, Red gently tossed the bag beside the mattress crammed in a corner and turned to close the door. Except there were large, orangish yellow eyes staring at him. He flinched as the cat let out a tiny squeak, fluffed up tail flickering against the railing with a dull bing.

He hadn't even noticed it. Big eyes that reminded him of exotic fruits Talia liked to eat, matted fur covered in dust and grime, the barest hint of white peaking through the threads of black mud on its chest.

Red frowned. He wasn't sure what to do with the scrawny thing, worried it might dart a moments notice. He remembered Dami telling him how you had to be patient with scared animals, like they were a foreign speaking child lost on the streets. At the time it didn't make sense, Red having many languages jammed into his head that even if he didn't talk, he'd be able to understand the majority of what a child had to say. 

This was not the case. It was a child with a language beyond his knowledge, beyond his capabilities. But he could be patient with it. Make himself appear non-threatening.

He wasn't some tiger staring down the feline, he didn't have fur to fluff up, visible teeth to bare nor claws to unsheath but he could make himself smaller. He gently lowered himself to the ground, the cat tense, ears flicking back, teeth flashing with a small hiss.

Red came to a still. The cat was desperate. This possibly was its own hideout and maybe its only source of shelter. He didn't want to take that away from it.

He slowly reached up to his own face, feeling around for a moment before trying to muffle the clicks as he undid the latches of his mask. Red set down the mask carefully, making sure the cat could see both his hands. He then removed his domino, seeing the cat relax the slightest bit.

Red knew from Dami where cats like to be pet the best and he was willing to try with this one. Slowly reaching his hand out, other stationed on his knee, he gently glided his hand over the cats cheek when it didn't move away. Didn't lean into him either. Wanting to be careful and not cause any discomfort, he was delicate when gently rubbing his thumb along the cats jaw and brushing his fingers behind the cats ear.

A glowing, bruised hand reached down to join his, the ghost of a young lady smiling softly. He had noticed her earlier, sitting on the balconies railing and looking down. 

Red pieced together a few explanations but remained unsure. Ghosts usually occupied the space they died or the place of their fondest or most brutal memories. They could travel but some seemed stuck in the moments before their death.

The cat leaned into the touch as the woman's merged with his own.

It made his nerves relay a cold feeling, a oddly comforting cold that seemed to sink into his bones as she influenced his actions, allowing them to be in sync. Another thing he noticed about ghost was how they gave slight directions to the living if they wanted to. He'd seen a great Grandmother helping name her Grandchild's offspring, a young boy help a girl avoid a puddle, a teenage girl help a bully push a scrawny kid into the road. A dangerous, life-ruining control that had capabilities to do good.

Red felt himself moving to pick up the cat, felt the cold nudge the woman gave him to go to the bathtub. It was located behind a thin wall, the toilet crammed between it and what had been a sink. It wasn't properly separated from the rest of the apartment, not much of it was other than the two meter long storage room.

Red found that the water was stuck as luke warm but knew it was better than cold so he settled for it, placing the cat gently in the tub and beginning to wash the poor thing. He left halfway through to grab a towel and some soap but the cat was still there when he came back. The water that flowed off of the soaked feline slowly turned from black, to grey and brown and then to a slightly tinted clear. It revealed a short fur, tortoiseshell cat with a white chest and chin. The dappling of black, brown and ginger reminded Red of a fire place, a specific fire place but he couldn't remember where it was.

Red wrapped the feline up in the towel, checking her gender on the way. Damian always said that only females could be tortoiseshell, with very few and rare exceptions. The cat began to purr as he carefully dried her, noting how her left front leg was almost entirely ginger from wrist to elbow. She wasn't too small that he had to worry about her not eating enough but she could certainly use more food.

Thankfully, Red kept a stock of canned food to last him a while, ranging from fruits - admittably his favorite - to speghetie. He grabbed the four pack of tuna as he sat, holding the cat to his chest and separated one from the rest. Hooking a finger in the tab, he set the cat down on the mattress beside him for a moment, he opened the can, blinking in surprise as liquid spilled out.  
Luckily, only a little made a mess, even then it was hardly noticed. 

He went back to the balcony and made sure to drain the tuna properly, scooping his mask up on the way back and closing the door. Securing the domino, the cat didn't seem too bothered with him using it, he put the can down by the cat before shoving himself into the corner. Red curled up tightly, watching as the feline buried its nose in the can like the way of someone used to getting food snatched off them would. With the domino on, he could clearly see the ghost slinking around; cheeks missing flesh, her eyes were sunken in, her hair messy and her clothes were the only pristine part of her. 

Ghosts often appeared how they died, leading to truly bloody and utterly impossible appearances. Red had even seen a naked man screaming in the middle of the streets. It was disturbing and he never reverted his eyes soo fast before.

This ghost seemed to value her possessions above her own body and, going by the twisted skin of her neck, had gotten her neck snapped. By who, or what, Red didn't know.

His mind flicked to Damian, his growth encouraged by Talia's medicine, a young child sleeping soundly.

For now, he needed to reserve his energy, be ready to kill at a millisecond of notice, so he let his eyelids close and drifted to a increasingly light sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to take care!


	3. With The Lights Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason, or Red, doesn't realise the wrongs. Not now. Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from lyrics of: Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana
> 
> I love this song, the original and covers. 
> 
> Lmao I just realised that my username and what I've taken to calling Jason is a bit too similar. My username is based on Agent Venom and Red Hood though as they are my favorite comic characters.

"Cat."

Large round eyes blinked at him, no reaction otherwise.

Red huffed, voice rasping with disuse as he tried again, "Molly."

No reaction.

It certainly didn't help that this weird feeling in his stomach seemed to increase with every wrong guess, making him feel the need to just do something. Maybe even break something.

Shaking his head in hopes to dismiss the sensation(spoiler - it didn't work), he leaned back against the wall, feeling the mattress dip under his weight, legs crossed and feline lying in front of him, legs tucked under its body. It continued to stare at him, big, orange-tinted yellow eyes trying to figure out a way to possibly kill him and successfully dispose of his body.

"Merida... Charlie... Roxy... Kiera..?"

Nothing. 

"Cassandra?"

Nothing.

"Katherine? Kate?"

A yawn.

"Barbara?"

The feline was dosing off now.

Figuring he exercised his voice enough for now, Red stopped. For now he needed to steal.

Only slightly disturbing the furry creature, Red moved, securing the bottom part of his mask, picking up his sword and attaching it to designated belt. He only stopped to open another can of tuna, leaving it near the cat, on the floor and closing the door behind him.

He scaled the building quickly, fingers quick to find leverage across the brick surface. Now with a better vantage point, Red began to navigate through the city, knowing which way to go, as if he had studied every single path and hot-spot for criminal activity. He didn't think he did but, pushing that to the side, he found it helpful and would rather focus on his current objective.

Red crept along a building, keeping low and, as predicted, hearing commands being tossed around through the window. One of the smaller gangs in Gotham city. One that had no name but he knew that they weren't being stopped. With little involvement to the bigger criminal organisations, this one always escaped the threat of jail. Batman hardly knew they still existed and they were able to keep attention from being drawn to themselves with a few quick bribes and murders, daylight criminals to avoid the Bat's patrol.

They dealt drugs and, while keeping it to a minimum, weren't afraid to harm innocents. This made them perfect victims for Red's thievery. There was something about dealing karma that just felt... Right. It matched up with his instincts. Like it was something he did. That he enjoyed. But he didn't know for sure, it just felt like it.

Red was quick to slip in through a window with a broken latch and watch the thugs move the crates of plastic bags, stuffing and fake products to ready them for transport and distribution. They didn't notice him, high up in the rafters, watching their every move. One hand steadied himself, the other twitched for his blade, fingers skimming the handle.

Fourteen active, four missing: WW, JD, GR and ES most likely. Two in the middle beside each other, having a break. One commanding, pacing with the line. Seven working, moving boxes along the line. Four on guard, two visible to those on break, the others behind walls only reaching halfway to the ceiling. He had no need for all of them. 

As Red thought of how to proceed, he tracked one of the guards hidden from the others, quickly dropping down and curving his sword through their neck as if flesh were butter, other hand coming up a silencing them. He caught the rifle from the thugs hands with a foot, carefully lowing both the gun and the body to the ground.

Thievery can include the stealing of someone's life.

Crouching, Red retrieved the handgun, taking the holster as well and attaching it to himself - right thigh. The only ammo the guard had was what was already loaded in the guns, leaving him only one more thing to get off the body.

The phone only had two notifications: one that was a message of obvious scam, the other from a app saying that a reward was ready for collection. A measly piece of text in the corner confirmed this was the phone of NL, a suspected child rapist and murderer of AD, if his memory was correct.

Thinking about it caused a headache to begin to wrap around his head, making him stop abruptly. It didn't matter right now. All he had to do was focus on his objective and complete it without flaw.

Red crept around the building keeping to the shadows and listening intently as he made his way to were the other isolated guard should be. It was easy avoiding the thugs, the area filled with obstacles to hide behind and gain vantage points if he wanted. He kept to the ground however, slinking through the moderately secure building to his next unexpecting target.

HJ, a domestic abuser, went down just as easily as the first, albeit more bloody but quickly nonetheless. Recognised from the inside phone cover. Just his luck, left thigh hand gun holster with an extra pouch of ammo to add to his belt.

After securing his loot, Red was quick to scale the wall and catch the ledge of the window. It was high up and didn't have enough space for him to stay up for long, holding on by his fingers rather than being able to utilise his entire hands.

The latch was stiff and made a horrible whine as he undone it, hearing a thug shout in question. A bullet smashed into the window, Red ducking down, using the latch to keep himself up. He flung himself out of the ruined window, dodging another shot with the movement. He failed a silent escape, now he had to run.

He didn't bother catching himself once on the outside, instead kicking his legs out and vaulting off the wall before he fell, catching the opposite buildings gutters and hauling himself up on the roof to start running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had internet for the past few hours. I haven't been able to listen to edgy music. I'm going into withdrawal.
> 
> Jk, Jk... I've survived longer without Internet. It's just making it hard for me deliver this chapter. 
> 
> Excuse me while I go turn The Source of My Internet on and off, over and over again until I can finally post this chapter. I'm not crying. You're crying. 
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed this chapter and remember to take care!


	4. It's Less Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perceptions of the world is stitched up carefully. 
> 
> It can be ripped apart again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title continuation of the last one.
> 
> Longest chapter yet! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Probably has a bunch of mistakes and may not be the best but, hey, practice makes perfect.

It was an hour and a half before Red stopped, feeling like he had no responsibility and didn't have to be wary. Running along the rooftops seemed to be natural, staying out of sight of on goers and and twisting his path round the city with a fluidity he didn't know he was capable of. Red knew he didn't need to run as much as he did but, for some reason, he didn't stop.

When he got back to the little apartment with the yet-to-be-named cat, rain had started to pour, just catching him as he travelled the last few blocks. It slowed him down but he didn't have room to complain when it provided extra cover.

The ghost was leaning against the balcony when he dropped down, her head tilted to the street below and long locks of hair covering her face. Red didn't know how much she travelled but wasn't against her presence. It helped provide a familiarity that wasn't out of the blue and setting his awareness and reflexes to the maximum.

He went inside, greeted by a disturbed hiss as he shook out some droplets from his hand to close the door without getting the handle too wet. The cat let out a little huff going back to being curled up smack dab in the middle of the mattress.

Red set out his weapons beside the wall, within arms reach of the mattress and went about getting dressed into casual clothing. Removing the warm mask and domino from his face was relieving, scrunching up his nose to try get rid of the non-existent pressure.

His hair was moderately dry so he wasn't worried about putting on a hoodie with the hood up and making it wet. It went over a belt with a set of knifes wrapped around his torso to reach for if he was in danger. Both the hoodie and sweatpants were soft and made him feeling like curling up and just sinking but he kept up, going through his bag for a decent snack.

His clothes from Talia weren't bad, they were practical, good for moving around and taking - and dealing - blows. But something about some casual(normal - his mind whispered) clothes made him feel a lot more at ease, even as they put him at more risk.

Eventually, Red settled on a can of mixed fruits, settling down and enjoying it. Apparently, the feline felt the need to occupy a space nearer to him and crept to lean against his hip. He didn't mind, it helped share warm and he perfectly understood that the cat was just making the most of the resources available.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the ghost float through the door, bare feet almost going to the floor to walk before retracting. She seemed to tense at the realisation, her eyes struggling to remain open. The woman descended into the undead equivalent of a panic attack, a chill creeping into Red's bones as reality twisted its sharp knife in her mind and soul but not her body, long gone.

Red sighed, disguising the reaction towards the woman's misfortune as the need to check his stolen possessions. Both phones were easy to get into, though he didn't remember what he did to do so, and even easier to wipe clean. He used them to catch up on recent news, unsurprised with what he found almost entirely. But then he saw someone. Someone that made his thoughts spin and his head hurt. Someone that he knew but someone who wasn't in the spotlight. Someone...

Conner Kent was revealed to the world as Superboy but Red knew who he was. What he was, a clone of CK and LL. Who he was, a boy trying his hardest with a body that doesn't correspond with his age. A boy that battled dangers and his own rage and so called 'upbringing'.

Thinking his actual name, not his initials brought searing pain in its wake and Red had to bring his hands up and try to stop it, clutching his head as if he could force it out if he pressed hard enough at the right places.

All he did was make his eyesight blurry.

Or that's what he thought.

The warmth of tears escaping his eyelids and clumping his eyelashes was startling, adding to the overwhelming feeling of just WRONG.

He tried to think of Damian, happy and safe but was only met with inconsistencies. Was Damian a child? Was he a infant? It didn't make sense, he couldn't remember him as a toddler.

It hurt too much and he just wanted it to stop, everything else dissolving away as his mind tore stitches. The warm presence at his side was but a distant feeling and the chill was drowned out by the snapped threads of his mind that littered every thought, tangling in every single word. 

Why did he refer to everyone by their initials? Why did Conner break that? Was it because his initials matched with CK? With Clark Kent?

Another wave of pain. This time it came with a soothing darkness not long after, dragging his limbs towards the center of the earth with a gentle tug.

-

He had seen Conner Kent before. With Talia and Ra's. A misunderstanding with the hothead BM and his supposed friends. He didn't recognise them all, insignificant during his time of learning.

But Conner didn't trigger any sense of familiarity, not then. Someone else did but not to the same extent. His mind was too shattered to remember, his memories too shredded to recall who, their face and their name wiped. Wiped as if someone had been cleaning and mistakenly decided he didn't need this information.

He tried to remember, words coming out warped. Night son? Nightsun? Gray...? Where'd Gray come in? He didn't know, everytime he tried to place it somewhere, his subconscious seemed to push him back into a pool of dizziness, green and red- and purple. He focused on that for a moment, trying to recall the colours and their meaning. 

Green of the lazarus, red of the blood he spilt and worn, purple of clothes. A jacket? Blazer? He couldn't pin point, hands grabbing him and pulling him down further into the green sludge, pushing against his chest harshly, red bubbling up and obscuring the purple.

He lunged forward staggering as the mess of his head faded away and his feet hit the dusty floor of the apartment. His eyes opened, his vision sharp with shards of green piecing through the edges.

What was he doing here?

A meow captured his attention and he found himself looking at orange-ish yellow eyes. A cat... The one he couldn't name.

His muscles relaxed, his vision cleared of green and Red's breathing returned to normal. The feeling of air in his lungs was soothing and he found himself turning fully towards the cat, kneeling and cupping her face. She let him and he rubbed along her chin and, carefully, closed his eyes and leaned forward. The feline bumped her head against his, purrs beginning to rumble through her throat. Any remaining tension disappeared, and he felt himself drooping, elbows no longer holding him up and his body slumping.

The cat licked his hair, tongue rasping through the strands with the expertise of a salon-something. With the top half of his torso on the mattress and the whole of his body too limp to even bother trying too move, Red let himself close his eyes and bask in the feeling. He didn't think he'd ever been this relaxed, as if being tense was his default. Red didn't mind it, if it got to feel this great once he wasn't on edge. 

Even if the horrible realisation of wrong had just shook Red's mind and soul, he didn't feel like it just happened, as if it had happened to someone else. It didn't hurt to think about Conner now, though he did bring up blanks as to how he knew certain things. Talia had mentioned before that he would go into a catatonic state when he was given information, a worse state than usual anyway.

Red didn't want to go through the pain of remembering but also didn't want to be lost and confused. He wasn't going to sought out memories unless he absolutely had to. For now, he just wanted to relax and try to ease his worries. He could try to counter and solve his memories and odd problems - things that screamed wrong - in his own time. He just had to hope the consequences wouldn't be severe.

The feline continued her quest to clean Red's hair, even as he shifted to get in a more comfortable position. He didn't mind.

The ghost was a cold presence at his back, not one that made him wary but one that was just there without any ill intent. She seemed to have calmed down from her own panic and Red had feeling that she may have influenced his own, making it easier for the negatives to burst through the cracked walls of his mind.

He wasn't too sure, but ghosts own emotions seemed to cause the living to feel some of it themselves. It never really affected him soo he didn't really know. It was just a theory at this point.

Red let his thoughts clear and welcomed the soft lulling of his exhaustion. He had time. He could think about it later.


	5. It's Hard To Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter, a reminder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title: lyrics from Serotonin by Call Me Karizma
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Being out at night put him on edge and made him feel free to do anything and everything, all at once. The clash made Red feel jittery and alert to the brink of having to bite his own tongue to stop checking behind himself every five seconds. It made him take dangerous leaps and dives.

It made him drop from a four story building onto the shoulders of some dickhead trying to tug a woman down an ally.

There was a crack, a cut off scream - not too odd for Gotham - and a man laying on the floor after his head was acquainted with Red's fist. The woman didn't make a sound, darting away as soon as the man's grip on her failed.

Looking at the man, green sharpening his vision, Red wouldn't be surprised is he broke some of his bones. He wasn't light enough to avoid harm from his actions and even then, he did come from high up.

Red didn't have much control when he crouched down with a knife, causing unrepairable damage. 

Quickly grabbing the man's money, Red made his way to the fire escape further down the ally and began to climb back up. Began being the key word. 

He didn't make it to the top before there was a slim black figure coming at him from a grapple line. Their cloak made it difficult to determine much, but the flash of something sharp being thrown made him draw his sword and stop the blade that had been thrown, sending it down to the floor with a shrill noise.

Red braced himself for a fight. He didn't recognise them and they were clearly trained. They could be sent by the Al Ghul's or the League of Assassin's, maybe even a different enemy. It could even be someone from his blurred memories, someone he had known but no longer. He didn't want to deal with this. 

His sword was knocked away in seconds, clattering down the fire escape to the floor, when they barreled into him but in turn, he twisted their similar weapon away and flung it down the ally. He couldn't risk using it if they could get it off him.

Red grabbed their cloak tightly and dragged them towards him in order to knee them harshly in the stomach. They almost got away, twisting in his grip and kicking at his armored shins. He saw the risk and let go, pushing them back into the wall, stunning them and quickly swiping their feet from beneath them.

Now he could see that they were female with a odd, stitched mask. It didn't tell him anything, didn't give him initials nor a indicator to any enemies he could encounter. This one was unknown. There were plenty of people dressing up similar to the Batman and this one he didn't recognise as one who actually knew the Bat.

She suddenly surged forward, grapple aimed at him. Red yanked himself sideways using the railing and felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, the hook digging into his flesh, through his armor. He almost growled, green splitting his vision and focusing in on her weak points.

Exploiting the chance, he grabbed the grapple line and jumped over the railing. Her grip was strong but her feet were light, ready to dodge and counter, possibly use the grapple to draw herself in to attack, not stop herself.

The fall made his stomach curl and his vision sharpen to the point he could see the twitch of her fingers as she instinctively almost reached for the railing that she already passed. Then, he pulled one of his guns. 

She jolted as she dodged a warning shot, letting go of the grapple and grabbing onto the lower levels of the fire escape and confirming his suspicions. Cain.

He tucked into a roll and managed to stop the majority of the damage the fall could have caused. The grapple ripped into his flesh even more, stifling a grunt, as he carefully detached it and pulled the gun itself towards him.

Red spotted his sword and quickly sheathed it as he sent another warning shot towards the girl. He had to be quick, she could take him down if he wasn't good enough. David Cain taught him the hard way and he most likely taught this girl that much as well.

Holstering his gun, Red sprinted further down the ally and took aim, firing the grapple up the building and using it to help scale the wall, hearing the girl start climbing the fire escape. He was quicker but she wasn't alone.

Red, black and yellow obscured his vision when he was just about to run, feeling the floor disappear from beneath him and gravity pull him forward. Red reached out with his hands and pushed, turning what would of been a stun into a flip as he turned on the newcomer.

Green roared in his eyes and the need to break something, the need to break the boy in front of him screamed in every inch of his body. He didn't know why but couldn't stop himself when he lunged forward, green swamping his brain, taking away his free will as if it were an acid. The Robins white lenses widened, as he was quickly introduced to a knife in the arm that tried to block and a fist to his stomach.

He twisted the blade before pulling away, landing a kick to the ribs as he did so, Robin too shocked to do much of anything.

Black barreled into his side and he found himself facing off the girl yet again. Only this time, Red wasn't in control and whoever - whatever was, wasn't forgiving. 

With a few quick movements, he stabbed the girl in the leg, and punched her in the face. She obviously wasn't recently used to the pain but Red was hardly keeping himself from running the knife under her ribs, into her lungs or her heart. A strong kick sent her falling off the side of the building, despite her attempts to block. 

He drew another knife just as Robin tried to kick him in the face. Instead, he grabbed his leg and flung him further onto the roof, making sure the landing was painful. A ghost blinked at him but he wasn't in enough control to examine it, not even for a moment. It wasn't a threat and, as he rounded on the Robin, wasn't capable of stopping or overcoming the screaming of the lazarus pit.

It took all of Red's energy not to reach for anymore weapons as he flung the knife into Robin's foot, striding over with his fists clenched.

Smoke suddenly exploded across his field of vision, making the lazarus just scream louder, spurring his body on as he spun with his fist to crack the third across their face.

Purple exploded from their form and felt his body being wracked in pain and a red smile with yellowed teeth laughed at his pain and - Red needed to run. Purple, he was going to get Red and hurt him, over and over again and - he needed to get away. 

He hardly noticed Robin returning the knife to his thigh with a flick of his wrist. 

He needed to get away.

So he turned tail and ran like the devil was after him, with smiling, laughing, crazed Robins as his hunting hounds.

Red sprinted across the roof tops, not missing a step as he vaulted over any obstacles and using the grapple to its full potential, going deeper into the city and ignoring how the buildings grew. He didn't stop. He never wanted to stop. He didn't think he could even if he had wanted to.

It didn't feel long before he lost his pursuers but even then he kept running. The pain only dimmed when he noticed the sun rising through the clouds of pollution.

Red stumbled to a stop, panting audibly as he collapsed on his knees. The sunrise was meant to be hours away, it shouldn't be soo early. Green simmered at the edge of his vision as he tilted his head back, staring at the sky and wishing he knew why he did that. Why he killed the man. Why he fought that girl, Robin and the other one. Why the purple spurred him to run.

Why. Why did he have to wonder in the first place? Why was he as he is? Why did it feel like he had been someone but no one at the same time? Why were soo many memories blurred?

Red turned his attention to do a check of his body, cataloguing his injuries mentally and pulling out the knife from his thigh. Upon examination, he quickly found a small, barely the size of a ant, tracker.

Knowing he couldn't just destroy it, Red climbed down the building into an allyway. He stayed there for a bit, in hopes that the bats would think he was changing into something casual.

They probably already connected him to the multiple incidents of theft and murder and, even if he wasn't that big of a target - doing more good than harm in his eyes -, would probably try to hunt him down. He couldn't let that happen, not with his reaction to Robin and the purple one nor with one trained by Cain.

He wiped the blood off of the knife on the dark fabric of his undershirt and checked that the tracker stayed attached. Satisfied, he edged towards the entry of the ally, carefully. 

Red made sure to slip the knife into the pocket of someone who looked fairly like him before delving back into the shadows, unnoticed.

He was slow on the trek back, having gone further and being injured. Red promised the cat that he'd get some cat food as soon as he could, feeling a nagging sensation at having left her for as long as he did. 

When Red finally dropped down onto the balcony, he was not prepared to rest, changing quick and bandaging his wounds quickly and without much consideration other than appearance. He would redo them later. For now, he was going to get him and the cat proper meals to last a while. Said cat gave him a once over and lifted her nose to stare at him.

'Are you kidding me?' She seemed to question. 

As always, Red was careful going out in public, going to the most unfamiliar store to buy what he needed. It was the best bet, avoiding places he had no memory of but still knew was a good way to get by without being noticed.

Red made sure to buy a pack of water bottles, a set of bowls, forks, knifes and spoons and decent groceries, including cat food. Cat treats and a toy were just extras. 

Carrying back the bags was a strain on his shoulder but he delt with worse and knew it would get better when he arrived. Getting in and securing the location, perhaps with more caution than usual, Red decided to run a bath while feeding the cat. The water was still warm and he didn't want to waste the chance. Who knew when it would turn cold and cause him discomfort.

As the cat stuffed her face into the bowl, Red focused on his wounds. The thigh wound was a clean cut, easy to stitch and apply a waterproof gauze. His shoulder, however, was a different case. The grapple was designed to grip into cement and had capabilities to dig into bone, flesh like the equivalent of butter to a knife. It took longer to treat it, especially since the hook had been ripped through his shoulder. He had to check it didn't hit any bone and even then had to disinfect it and sew it up. It was painful but, with his experience and training, quick.

Soon enough, Red was relaxed in the bath tub, gently washing his hair with apple and coconut scented shampoo. The ghost was with the cat and petting her, soft purrs filling the room and making it past the thin wall separating them. The familiarity was welcome.

All too soon he had to finish and get out, the water loosing its temperature. Risking his health was not on his bucket list.

Draping a large towel over his shoulders, Red stood in front of the bath, watching the water drain away. He wasn't even thinking. Just standing there. Even when the water was long gone.

It took much more effort than what should be necessary to move. Red put on a long sleeve, snug turtle neck and sweatpants on, putting his recently used clothes in a neat folded pile to be washed.

As tired as he was, Red wasn't willing to rest quite yet. He picked up one of the phones and began researching. Trying to find the two that were with Robin. Red sat down beside the cat, the ghost only glancing at him. The woman eventually grasped his hand in a cold grip, sitting the other side of the cat, and encouraging him to continue petting the feline. He did. He only needed one hand for research.

Blurred shots of the girl dressed in black revealed her to be Orphan, rarely seen, quick and efficient. The other one, with a darker, duller purple than he remembered, was known as Spoiler, notorious for 'spoiling' a minor villains gig. She didn't have any of the unknown familiarity.

Orphan's fighting style had a different familiarity. 

During his time with the Al Ghul's, he had had many teachers, ranging from the All Caste to Metropolis terrorists. He how to rid one of their abilities and how to hide from the super senses of the enemy. But most importantly, he knew how to fight.

David Cain was one of, if not the most, dangerous teachers he ever encountered.

Thus he studied every little thing he had to learn from the man as well as Cain himself. He learnt everything, including the man's weaknesses. Talent only got you soo far if your power got to your head. 

That's why there was a body left rotten at the bottom of a polluted lake. 

Orphan had been around for awhile and could easily not know that Cain was gone. She probably had been training under him before Red had to give her enough time to be such a experienced fighter. No one else has been taught beside Red and the one that had been taught after him didn't have a full year of it before they were gagging on a mouthful of poisoned whiskey with sniper bullets to their hands.

Orphan had confirmed his suspicions when she dodged the warning shot, much like Cain had in his final moments. Red could tell that she was dangerous, a better fighter than Cain, a better fighter than himself in a fair fight.

He knew how to tip the scales. He has for years. But Orphan wasn't the one he was trained to fight. Everything he did. It all pointed to two costumed freaks. 

The cat let out a little hiss as he snapped the phone in half. 

A bat and a scorpion.


	6. It's Who You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't know what he should but like hell is he not going to know how to kill a man or a thousand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title: lyrics from Buy The Stars by Marina and the Diamonds.
> 
> By the way, the initials usually stand for a character that can be from a different fandom. Even I don't know them all because I've asked friends to give me some.
> 
> Also, I had a 'accident' (I'm looking at you sibling) and broke my phone (losing a bunch of progress) and got a concussion. Those are not fun. Luckily, thanks to karma, my sibling allowed me to 'burrow' their laptop to write this up. It doesn't have the same autocorrect my phone had so to be prepared for an increase of mistakes. Also, writing with a concussion I do not recommend. Actually let yourself rest.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, my dear readers.

It had been a week since his encounter with Robin, Orphan and Spoiler. There had been no run-ins with any vigilante and the only challenge Red has had was a close run in with some left over fear gas some thugs decided to try use to rob a store. He was in civvies so he didn't bother staying, running with the rest of Gotham's tired shoppers. They were too used to it by now.

He had been staying at the same apartment for the entire time, despite the need to be constantly on the move. Red blamed it on the cat.

It wasn't like she didn't know how to take care of herself but she was the only thing he could positively interact with.

The people in Gotham weren't friendly and if they were they were either stupid or not from Gotham - not saying they weren't stupid(they should know with the Joker and anyone with so much as a toe dipped in crime getting out of any confines every other month). They kept to their own groups, whether that be corrupt police officers or street rats. Red did not fit into any such group and, while he certainly wasn't a cat, cats don't care about which group you were in. You either were of no use to them or a resource to be exploited or a danger.

Which made everything make even less sense. Red didn't know why he valued the little warm bundle sleeping next to him soo much. She could easily forget about him and find somewhere else-someone else for food and shelter. He didn't even know her name, didn't try to name her something new.

The ghost was outside, looking down again while Red used the last phone to its limits, finding every piece of information he could. When the battery finally died, he broke the phone and tossed it out the window, standing and leaving the mumbling feline to herself.

His mind was running through plans as he got ready to go out again. With each day, the chances of another encounter increased and today those chances were increased tenfold.

The past few days had been getting ready for this day.

Red made sure to pack extra ammo for his handguns - stolen righteously of course - and slung the sniper rifle(gained in a manner much like the handguns and phones) over his shoulder, tightening the strap to ensure that it wouldn't be lost. He had a target tonight and he wasn't going to miss.

The sun dipping below the horizon, Red used his grapple to perch on top of one of the taller building to survey his surroundings. Spotting landmarks, including the Wayne's tower, Red began to make his way towards his objective.

One of Joker's important goons was being transported from Arkham to a isolated prison block to avoid both Joker and this goon from busting out together. The problem was that this goon was only labelled under Joker as a case. Not only was there not enough evidence to put the goon away for his own wrongs, other people can be led on to believe that Joker himself would be the one relocated. The Bats viewed it as an opportunity to get more thugs locked up. Red saw it as an opportunity to poke at Joker and deal a blow to the fragile hierarchy of Joker's rule.

It was perfect. This goon, WF(he couldn't think of his real name), was one of the key factors for financial income. Sure, the Bats would be shadowing the goon but thanks to the sniper rifle, they shouldn't get in the way.

The goon was going to switch cars in the middle of the journey and that was his shot. It was slim but taking the shot anytime else, with heavily armored cars and armed men stationed at both locations, was too risky. He wasn't sure which Bats would be there and whether he could even outrun them, even without missing or others shooting at him.

The car swap was meant to lose pursuers and draw the more dangerous ones out out at the same time. Red was just going to prove their plan had worked but he would not conform to their expectations.

Soon enough, he was in position. Perched on top of a building with multiple escape routes, he had a clear view of the parking lot opposite. Now he just had to wait. 

Right on time, a car drove down the vacant road.

As the vehicle pulled through the entrance of the parking lot, Red spotted dark flashes of humanoid, bat caped shapes. He kept an eye out for them, spotting Spoiler crouched behind the railings of a nearby fire escape and a dark shape on one of the roofs of the opposite buildings. He didn't know if there was more but wasn't going to back down. 

Tracking the car with the scope of his rifle, Red felt his body tense in preparation to take the shot. Disguised officers stepped out of the car and one of the other cars that had been idle came to life. WF clambered out of the car, nudged forward by those who held him hostage. He didn't however, make it to the other car, not even a few steps. Red had had his crosshair trained on him the whole time, waiting for the perfect moment for no one else to get hurt and show display his expertise. When he saw the chance, he took it, barely flinching at the recoil of the shot nor the dark flecks exploding from between the mans eyes.

Spoiler flinched and the dark shape lunged forward onto a lamp to get a better view of the dead body, to get a direction. Now Red could see who it was. The white lenses of the Dark Knight met his, staring - glaring down the barrel of his sniper.

He let the gun clatter to the roofs edge, not keen on letting it weigh him down and, just as the Bat began to move forwards, flung himself off the roof, grapple quick to catch onto the best spot and fling him a good distance. Red felt that green tinted adrenaline surge through him once more, felt the need to run for days on end and let himself give into that.

Everything blurred together, a green haze overtaking his vision as he was chased. Try as he might, he didn't remember his actions during the time, feeling a knife ripping through reinforced rope and the recoil of his guns. Red only snapped out of it when the sound of an explosion splintered his vision, crouched on a moving platform. Through the green cracks he recognised the train, he being perched outside, leaning against the door connecting two carts. One of his bomb triggers was in his hand, detonated with his thumb pressed on the button. Releasing the pressure, Red felt himself droop.

The sound of the train passing over the tracks flooded his senses and he felt himself sinking into green and red, purple exploding across the edges of his vision and swirling to form shapes. A boy stood infront of him, looking down at his kneeling form with a face blank of details, purple wisps of his hair seeming ever changing (he wouldn't notice it at the time but the hairstyle was cycling through those who've held the mantle of Robin). The boy was but a wavering purple silhouette standing infront of him, as the green and red shifted to paint what he saw of the train in acid and blood. Anger burst through him and he felt himself lunge forward, fist going through the boys face, the purple dissipating like smoke and his fist clashing with the trains opposite door. Purple began to crawl up his arm, dragging him towards unconsciousness. He tried to shake it off, the cracks in his vision leaking toxic green.

Someone landed ontop of the cart and said something but everything seemed to explode red as he looked up, a purple figure standing tense. Drawing one of his guns, he machanically aimed up at them. A smaller caped form flung themselves in the way of his shot, green and red clashing to show their form. Brighter green seemed to shatter across them, the center coming from the bullet hole in their lower torso. They collasped and the purple figure reached for them.

Red didn't see any more, turning and leaping off the train blindly, the colours seering painfully in his eyes, streaking in movement blurs as he landed on a railing. Hands gripping the metal tightly, he threw himself forward, catching the drainage pipe of a building and climbing onto the roof. Gotham's usually dark streets were painted the bright colours of green, red and purple. He avoiding anything of the purple colour as he bolted across the roofs, jumping from building to building.

Something-someone collided with his back and he turned to push them off as they fell. Back pressed to the roof, Red glared at the purple figure trying to bind his arms. He reeled up his legs and sent a strong kick that knocked them off. They shouldn't be here. Did they leave the other bleeding out?

Suddenly his vision cleared and he could see who they were, freezing him even as he held a knife in preparation to cause damage. It was- Their face became blurred. He couldn't identify them. He didn't know who they were. He couldn't even see them properly. Even their voice was distorted. They yelled at him to drop the knife, advancing with weapons of their own. But he didn't know what weapons, he didn't know who they were, he couldn't even begin to unlatch his fingers, he couldn't. He couldn't recall any of the colours they were wearing, couldn't see if they were male or female.

He could feel the pain of electricity suddenly seizing his muscles, crackling through his nerves. Gritting his teeth, Red retorted with a blow of his own with one hand to their stomach, other going for their throat with his knife. He was sloppy, fist connecting but badly and knife getting twisted out of his hand. Using their grip on his wrist, they forcibly turned him so they could get him to face away. While it did put him in a difficult position to retaliate, he was far from helpless. 

One foot stomping on theirs for a momentary distraction, he locked grips on their own wrist and leaned forward, barely managing to throw them over himself and not bust his own wrist with the movement. 

He didn't have time to do much more when a shadow covered over him. He looked up and felt his blood boil as he was met with Batman jumping down upon him. Red barely dodged the fist aimed for his face nor the sweeping kick. He had to bounce back on his feet with his arms when his legs almost got swiped, jumping over the kick and ducking under the fist. It was enough time for the other one to approach and join the fight, swinging a armed arm for the back of his legs whilst he blocked heavy hits from Batman. Red felt himself fall yet again, kicking out to send himself over the edge.

A grapple teared into his shoulder once again, the Bat must of knowing about his fight with Orphan, and, for a moment, he hung there, reaching up to grip the grapple line, grunting at the pain as he tried to ease off of it. It was a different type of grapple, designed to grab and hold a different kind of target. Batman must've planned ahead, like he always did, for an encounter.

A pulse of green, adrenaline surging through his blood, was all it took for him to stop struggling, the roar of the Lazarus pit taking over and aiming a gun at the Bat, pulling and ripping the grapple from his shoulder, still holding on and firing. He missed, seeing someone in the back of his head smiling, reaching down and rustling his hair- he heard a scream as pain exploded through his skull, letting go of the grapple and barely landing properly on the allyways floor. His hands went up to grasp his head, gun clattering to the floor as he distantly realised he was the one that screamed. It hadn't been that loud, a weak thing produced by an ungodly amount of fear and pain and a unused voice. Red's legs collasped - no, not Red, that wasn't right - and his body curled in on itself. A rough gentle voice spoke to him warmly, within his mind as the Bat landed near him, cautious as he looked up at him. A rough voice spoke orders to the other coldly, the Bats mouth moving and he felt himself tense, cold crawling up his spine as tears flooded his eyes as he looked at his- another wave of pain, pinpricks digging into long forgotten memories and a voice, the same voice.

'It's going to be alright Jay'

Batman's voice yet his mouth did not move. Bruce Wayne's voice yet he was not present. His father's voice yet he did not exist.

It was too much too soon, his mind becoming more damaged rather than restoring, wrenching a muffled cry through clenched teeth. He jerked up onto his feet, grabbing the gun and firing it in the direction of the Bat, missing completely and using his other hand to shoot off a grappleline, needing to get away, green and purple swirling together in some sick concoction in his brain. 

Everything blanked out as he ran, barely registering any movements.

He only stopped when he collided with a ghost, feeling their presence stiffening his limbs. 

"Jeez, what's he running from?"

"How would I know? If you keep holding him up, we should find out."

Red - no it wasn't Red - took a few trembling steps, falling down onto his hands, gasping for air. His vision blacked out for a moment and the next he was sprawled on the ground, shivering despite the warm sweat gathering. 

Did he run far enough? (What should he know that he didn't?)

Everything felt heavy and static, numb and static in a horrible blend. Yet he didn't bother getting up. He already knew it was a pointless thing to attempt.

Red's- Jay's eyelids slid close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly getting his name back, eh?


	7. Then, The Sky Opened Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Within the realm of familiarity, one may find learning easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title: Then, The Sky Opened Up And Swallowed Them Whole by The Paper Melody
> 
> New YouTube playlist of all the songs that have been mentioned in the titles, Idk if I will be able to get the link to work:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTa1eK1YvSc&list=PL1sKLGg-n_cjdAT6_uey9gI6PNbzhOQHw
> 
> I'll probably put it at the end notes or something, just in case.
> 
> This chapter is a bit unsatisfactory but I didn't know what else to do.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Everything felt numb.

A dull green was spread across his closed eyelids, seeming to glue them shut as he felt consciousness return. The murky feeling of drugs being processed though his system weighed down on him heavily, fogging up his nerves and dragging each cell in his body down. Gravity had its jaws wrapped tight around him, including his ability to process his thoughts.

Where was he? What happened? Was he in danger? Who was he?

Feeling returned to him in a rush, his nerves lighting up as cold heat seered through his body all at once, his mouth opening in a choked gasp. His ribs and spine seemed to be made of molten metal, burning and encouraging him to sit up. Similar metal rods seemed to be stuck in his hands, in his arms, everywhere. It was difficult to remind himself that they were his bones. 

His eyes opened, stinging and feeling like icecubes, not just cold but misshapen, out of place and just wrong. He bared his teeth at the shape that moved to his side, needle in hand, the hair on the back of his neck standing up and his eyes narrowing. 

He didn't even feel anything as he ripped out of the leather restraints on his wrists, swinging his fist into the shapes face. The movement was blurred with green and he felt bones break under his knuckles, heard a muffled exclaimation. Another shape came towards him and he felt the bonds break this time as he ripped his legs free and twisted, hands going to their head and pushing his thumbs into their wide orbs.

The crack as he twisted their head rattled his bones, no longer feeling molten but strong. Green spikes split his vision into sectors, showing him blacked out faces of armed men. He barely registered gripping the handle of some kind of weapon, lazarus flowing alongside his adrenaline. He only noticed the splashes of warm liquid within his next actions.

Everything narrowed down, suddenly, onto a woman standing in his way, in the middle of the entrance, the exit. He let out a ragged breath, knees going weak as she said something. He didn't know what but felt any control being dragged out of both his and the Lazarus pits grip. Just as he was dropping, his body stiffened, catching itself and making him stand stock still.

"And this is why I didn't like them making one of your triggers something that could open up a substantial amount of information. You've been hurting, haven't you pet? You're trying to remember."

Talia reached forward, cupping his face almost fondly but he could see the coldness in her eyes. "I'm upset you tried to get away. I'm more disappointed those loyal to the Demon's Head are soo ignorant and underestimated you."

Taking his wrists gently, she brushed her thumbs over the sore spots, carefully avoiding the worse of the bruising. "Though my beloved doesn't hold back his punches when he should, confronted with a new opponent. I suppose I should be disappointed in most people... Remember your breathing exercises now."

With a sigh, she eased the weapon out of his grip, throwing it to the side and gently tugged him out of the room. They walked down a somewhat familiar hallway for a few metres before turning into another room. A bathroom, he realised faintly.

She took off his tunic and encouraged him to finish changing, turning to pull a medical kit out of the cupboards below. Even without willing it, he moved to do as she asked. 

His shoulder was freshly wrapped and Talia nudged him into the bath tub, wiping his face with a small towel soaked with soapy water. She continued to wash him, stroking his hair and tenderly swiping over his bruises. He noted that she tried to hold herself close to him, as close as she had to the comfort she wanted to give. 

Talia provided fresh clothes that he changed into as she looked at the screen of a device that he wasn't sure quite fit into the description of a phone. If he was ignorant, he'd though that it had a jetpack on a phone. Instead, he was fairly sure that it was some kind of weapon, a multipurpose piece of tech. A good thing to keep on you but only the stupid would rely on solely on such thing. As soon as the tech was unable to perform, you'd need to replace it. Depending on how widely it was produced, replacement can be completely impossible. He had no doubt Talia wasn't bound by such a law of impossiblity.

"Come." The Al Ghul said with a wave of her hand and as if she hadn't already given the order, "I shall have one of my subordinates prepare a meal."

He followed her out of the room and down the hallway. The small missteps he took were quickly correct as he felt control come back. He did not, however, stop, the promise of food on his mind. He also didn't think he was in true danger, Talia oddly affectionate towards him in that way of hers that made even the most hardened and experienced assassin wary. The Demon's Head's daughter caring for him made many turn their back on him to watch her, exposing their vulnerabilities to him.

Eventually, they reached a dining hall, large but certainly not the largest in the possession of the Al Ghuls. Talia sat at the head of the table, gesturing to the seat to her left. He took his seat, servants rushing forward to place plates infront of them both. He didn't need to worry about poisoning. Even if it were poisoned, his immunity to such things was built up.

Talia dismissed the servants but neither of them started to eat.

"Who am I?" He asked, pressing his nails into the polished wood of the table.

"Someone who once worked for Batman." Talia replied, reaching for his hand to deter him.

"I know that. Who is Batman? Who is Bruce Wayne? What is he to me?" He questioned, digging his nails into his palms instead.

Talia let out a sigh before deciding to answer, " You can't let anyone know. He is your father like I am your mother. Not by blood but he adopted you."

"Why don't I remember?" He felt something tug in his chest as he asked, a flash of purple.

"The Joker managed to get his hands on you. He beat you to death. I revived you but your memory did not return." Talia replied, grasping a fork in her hand and preparing a bite.

"What's my name?"

"Jason Peter Todd."

"Who... Someone I can't remember but I saw but I couldn't identify... Do you know who they are?"

"Yes but I'm afraid your condition made it be wiped clean. His name is a trigger for you, making you passive. He is known as Nightwing in the heroes playground." Talia ignored his stumblings and held up her hand, halting him from asking any further, "Now, we must eat."

He nodded. Jason nodded and picked up his fork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter songs YouTube playlist: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTa1eK1YvSc&list=PL1sKLGg-n_cjdAT6_uey9gI6PNbzhOQHw


	8. And Swallowed Them Whole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe he can finally relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title continuation of previous chapter.
> 
> Used this to practice writing object positioning and location and such soo if you want to skip over some things I won't blame you. I tried to put them in solid paragraphs so you should be able to tell where it is.

Dining was silent, Talia barely acknowledging the refill of wine nor serving of desert. Jason let himself savour the seasoned meat, fresh vegetables and flavourfull fruit. He didn't try thinking about any of the revealed. The twinge of pain only promised a torrent of such nerve-wracking sensation to echo around his skull. Instead, he kept the information for later. Names weren't a problem soo much as roles with what he had learnt. Nightwing was still a blurry figure and Batman was still that, a billionaire playing dress up and sending kids to fight the underbelly of Gotham's finest.

"Come." Talia stood, beckoning him to do the same while waving the servants to collect their dishes. Jason did as was demanded, following Talia through the double doors that had a tell-tale splash of red stain a the bottom edge. Opposite from the previous entry, it led to yet another hallway with numerous doors on either side. Talia ignored them and so he only gave them the barest attention. Soft sounds of exhertion implying training or, perhaps, punishment. The Al Ghuls were never short on those owing their sevices, even without the league.

"Is there anything that you need from your previous dwelling?" Talia spoke, not soo suddenly as it probably should be perceived had she been normal. 

Jason just barely tilted his head in a nod, "Yes, I had a bag and weapons set up beside the mattress." with brief consideration he added, "I also have a companion. A cat that has proved valuable with mental affairs." His voice felt wierd in his throat, as if the inside of his throat had been damaged but didn't feel.

"I will see to it that your possessions will be retrieved and your feline friend escorted here unharmed." Talia spoke and seemed to note his vocal predicament, "I will get someone to bring honey and tea to aid your ability to speak. We will be having conversations with you often from now on during your stay to train your voice."

Deciding not to question Talia's use of 'we' among other things, Jason gave her a nod, letting a 'thank you' loose quietly. They were almost to the end of the hallway by now and Jason was reminded of the grand room that Ra's sat within while commanding flocks of trained assassins to his rule. Eventually, he no longer had that many but his power was still as wide as ever. Talia pushed one of the doors open and held it for him on the other side. Jason bowed his head respectfully as he passed the doorway, not ashamed to admit that he was perplexed at the older's action should he ever be asked.

"You will be staying in a private room, equiped with neccessities and weaponary. You'll find a phone in the nightstand. You must keep it save, it'll be your way of contacting me should you need it." Talia said, her eyes trained forward. A shorter hall that soon split two ways came into view. Judging by the smell of sweat and cleaning substances, the one to the left led to showers. They turned right, Jason just a few paces behind Talia to let her show the way.

Scent didn't give him much clues but from the spacing of the doors on the left side of the corridor, he could tell that the rooms were large and the only a few frequently used in recent times with the arching scratch marks on the floor caused by the doors themselves, barely visible on the cold hard surface. 

Soon the spacing depicted storage rooms and and open stairways. Then the landscape must've changed slightly, a few steps up for the entire hallway and a slight but in no ways insignificant bend. They were either near the edge of the structure they were within or there were more passageways beyond the walls on the left, beyond the rooms that had gotten sparse. He already knew the likely hood of there being more passageways between now and the the dining room. The room he started in could've easily been somewhat isolated to stop any in need of restraints from getting too far and causing too much damage while still maintaining control, surveillance and organisation.

Talia didn't say anything, even as she abruptly turned, hand reaching for a seemingly random door that looked the same as any other. Jason could guess at the distance in took to reach here, he didn't doubt he could find it again and he had no reason to doubt Talia's own ability. They entered the room, Talia going straight for a closet on the right side. 

Perfectly square, the room only had one more door positioned by the closet that Talia went to. It was open, showing a pristine kitchen. No sign of windows. There was a decently sized bed with it's headboard against the left wall, a normal table on one side with a coaster and a lamp placed on it, closer to the entry and a drawer on th other side. Straight ahead was a desk equiped with a opening surface, a single mirror on the side, a assortment of materials and stationary and an antique dagger placed on the wall for the only but stragetic decoration. In the upper left corner, a larger lamp that was on and would undoubtedly be the main source of light. There was a relatively empty bookcase in the upper right corner, a meter along both walls and a badly covered up gap in the middle where two bookcases were fixed together.

"This will be your room. I'll have to get you some more clothes seeing as the bare minimum seems to be basic casual wear, training clothes and armor. Better sizing may be need because some of these are clearly not going to fit." Talia held a oversized hoodie and tiny gloves as if to prove her point despite not directly showing them to him. With a sigh, she put them back and turned back to Jason. "You can do what you want within this room but I'll be coming to retrieve you tommorow once we have your possesions from your previous settlement."

She walked towards the door and Jason was quick to get out of the way, feeling a bit off as if something was squirming in his stomach. He ignored it, not seeing it as a medical threat and watched as Talia reached out to smooth his hair. She gave a disapproving tut and gestured to the desk before exiting the room, closing the door behind her.

Jason felt his brows pinch together and reached to feel his hair as he made his way to the desk. Only part of it opened up, allowing what was placed on it to be undisturbed. Unsuprisingly, he found a comb, hairbrush, razor and scissors within and got to work. It didn't need washing, just maintance.

He didn't bother with cutting it, knowing that - despite his skill at disecting a human body - it wasn't his expertise and he could easily end up messing it up. Something didn't sit right with having a bad hair cut around other people.

Finished and hair now without knots and tangles, Jason made his way over to the bed after putting things away. Sitting on the edge, he fished out the phone from the drawer and quickly familarised himself with it. Happy with his accomplishment, he returned it to it's previous place and fell backwards onto the bed with a slight unintentional exhale. Jason narrowed his eyes for a moment, squinting up at the ceiling as he felt the compelling promise of comfort. Eventually giving in, he rolled to the pillows, feeling his lips curve as he did so, and grabbed the edge of the blanket. Standing for a moment, he adjusted it and span round. Jason returned to the bed, warm and comfortable in a snug cacoon.


	9. Fade In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One may live to see the man their son becomes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title: FadeIn/FadeOut by Nothing More
> 
> Hope you like it!
> 
> One of my friends just screamed that she was gay for Batwoman... I have no words. It was soo out of character, out of place, soo random. I'm kinda scared.
> 
> Also, I'm sorry. I have plot in mind and I'm sorry ahead of that(Give into the paranoia my dear readers, give in to the paranoia)

When Talia knocked on the door the next day, Jason did not expect to hear the news. Despite having capable and numerous assets, there was a complications surrounding the retrieval of his possessions and the cat. The Bats were keeping an eye on any and all Al Ghul related movement and had scoped out his own regular movements, including the area around the apartment. 

"We have a former operative no longer connected to us within Gotham city. However I'm unsure he would not take kindly of us demanding things of him when we are already in his debt. I'll be sending you to complete a task he's been meaning to for a while. Help him complete his mission and he will help you." Talia said, bringing her lips to the cup she was holding as she pushed a folder towards him, their breakfast finished. "We usually keep out of interfering with the Meta human trafficking, however, our accomplice plans to infiltrate one of the rings in Gotham's darkest, were even the vigilantes dare not venture. Old connections to it per se, are making him take action."

Jason took the folder and flicked through the contents. "Information on the mission, your allies and enemies." Talia nodded towards the folder. The trafficking ring was within a prison, perfect for such a crime ridden city, close to the worse of crime ally. It shouldn't be very effective but . No one will miss the criminals that were to be locked away for their whole lifetime. It had connections to multiple villains, the Rogues of Gotham, including Penguin and Two Face. Not all were fully fleshed out, some were just guesses, conspiracies, including the Joker himself.

His allies, or really people not to be worried about and the said operative, weren't much to go off of. Some were just information gatherers while others were weaponry suppliers. The operatives real name was unknown, with a few connections here and there, not much to go off of. Wingman worked in the shadows even more than the Bats and other flying species. He was neither good nor bad, standing in the middle ground, neutral but influenced by gain. What he could gain from taking down the ring, Jason was not sure.

"We will equip you with gear and send you to Gotham in half an hour. You're our best bet, Gotham's protectors do not have much on you and may not realise the level of your connection to us. You'll be aided by our accomplice to ensure you don't get captured." Talia proceeded to explain, "I have my doubts anyone would be able to have a simple mission when outnumbered soo severely."

Jason shut the folder and bowed his head, "Thank you."

Talia shook her head, "No need, it was our own faults making it harder to reclaim your possessions." She stood and gestured for him to follow.

They went down the hallway, much like they had yesterday, but instead turned into one of the last rooms of the first stretch of hallway. Within was an array of weapons, ranging from swords and bows to guns and grenades.

Talia went straight to a backpack and two bags that had been placed close to the door, holding them up for him to take.

"Those have the required gear, majority nonlethal, an assortment of gadgets alike to Beloved's and League weaponary." Talia said, opening the backpack in his arms to let him look in, "The backpack has things to restock while the bags have things that you can wear and attach to your person. The only thing that you may need are swords and other larger weapons." She gestured to their store, "You can choose those out yourself."

Jason was quick to do so, getting two swords that would cross over his back and three handguns, one to go under his arm and the others to go to his thighs were he already was used to.

Talia stepped out to let him change, Jason doing so quickly, emptying the bags and finding his domino and putting it on. It was a more modern, practical wear than the previous uniform he had used, with more armor and less baggage to allow him agile fast movement, all the while giving him more hiding spots for blades and gadgets. It still had a hood and even came with head gear that wrapped round his head closely, not quite a helmet but still providing coverage.

Jason stepped out, backpack slung over his shoulder and bag filled with the other bag and the clothes he came here in in his hand. A servant came and took the bag of clothes, quickly disappearing down the left turn. Talia nodded then began walking the way they had came, towards the dining room. Jason followed and Talia began to explain the systems in the headgear, including a comm. 

Most of it was quite simple, things he's worked with before - dare he not think how through the mess of his memory to know how unless he wants pain - and linked up to the panel on his forearm that allowed him to quickly hack into things and detonate bombs. It wasn't as high-tech as what he has used before, not a hologram but a screen. It was covered up by a panel of metal, that looked alike to the armour on his other forearm, which moved to cover it up or to the underside of his arm to reveal it with a certain pressure at the wrist.

Soon enough, they passed the dining room and Jason used the screen to find a map of the structure they were in at Talia's instructions. The screen was black with burnt amber lines showing up to show corridors and rooms beyond the yellow walls of the one they were in. The available pathways were a bright orange and - when Talia directed to zoom out and select the exit - faded to the amber colour when they were proven to be unneeded.

"Blue dots are technology, red are unknown people that the device hasn't scanned yet, green are allies and purple will appear when hostiles are detected. The yellow, of course is you- or rather the device. You have a supply of trackers in your backpack that would show up cyan when activated." Talia explained, "You can press the dots to find any info available on them, like so."

She reached over and pressed her green dot and her file came up in green on the side of the screen, with a picture and basic information. She swiped in the away from him and showed him the related people and then swiped towards him to return to her profile, then again to have the map full screen. Distantly, he was aware of them passing a few rooms but didn't see them of importance currently.

"Hacking will have you to be close enough to the objective to connect or manually connect with the wire. You can activate and deactivate the mode by triple tapping the corner of the screen." Talia said, "There are two wires - one that goes to your mask that allows you to analyse your surroundings and use different filters like infrared. The other wire can be accessed at your wrist if you press the two separate points on either side of your arm. It will allow you to manually connect as stated before." Talia showed him before stepping through the next set of double doors.

Jason recognised the door leading to the room he woke up in, any blood washed away. He avoided looking into it as they walked to another door, an open space behind the locked door visible on the map. Talia unlocked the door and they stepped out, a helicopter waiting in the open space, the sky a gray curtain blocking out the sun. He let the panel cover the screen as they approached the helicopter.

Talia grasped his wrist just as the door slid open, her green eyes meeting his for a moment before she pulled him close. 

"Take care Jason. Don't let anyone hurt you." She whispered as he returned the hug, "No matter what you find out about yourself, I will always be your mother and as such, my arms will always be open to you." They parted and Jason found himself seated in the helicopter, eyes trained on the quickly disappearing figure of Talia Al Ghul.

Eventually, when he could no longer see her, he instead focused on memorising the surrounding land. It must of been up North, white blanketing the Earth and any civilisation visible. The building that he was just in was hidden, built into a mountain side. Soon enough, that too was tiny and Jason looked away, watching the pilot for a moment before closing his eyes and leaning back.

He used that time to think, to sought through what he already knew and correct anything that got messed up. Damian was a child, trained to be a weapon and given Talia's medicine to grow quicker. Nightwing was a vigilante whose name was turned into a trigger(to get rid of weakness, his mind whispered). Batman was his adoptive father - not just another trainer like he previously thought - and his real name was Bruce Wayne which was just as much a mask as Batman. The Al Ghul's revived Jason because he was believed to be valuable; Jason was a weapon and a connection to the Bats and other such 'heroes'. His full name was Jason Peter Todd and Talia Al Ghul was his mother in a similar way that Batman was. There was a Superman clone called Superboy who also went by Conner Kent and Kon-El.

By the time the helicopter landed, he still had't sought through everything but he had time to do so later. Like the rest of his memories, Jason had time.

When he stepped out, the helicopter almost immediately started up into the sky again. He was on one of the many roofs of the outskirts Gotham with gray clouds the same as the ones he just left from being under.

Jason waited in that one spot, the sound of helicopter blades cutting the air and the rumble of the engine keeping those same blades spinning slowly fading.

When a figure landed on the roof, Jason nearly went for one of his guns, the dark caped figure much alike to Batman. It's probably the same reason why many hadn't realised they weren't the same, seeing a similar shodow and assuming. Wingman stood straight and walked towards him, Jason quickly picking apart his appearance and mentally comparing to the the files stashed away in the backpack.

Red visor, mouth visible, white skin, Batman-like ears, metallic gray armor, claws, grapple in hand, no signal, cape made up of soo-called feathers. No pockets, holsters or bags to carry weapons - at least not visibly.

"Red. That's what you were going by wasn't it? A bit close to Red Hood. I like it." Wingman spoke, his voice gruff in a way that Batman's wasn't. Jason nodded, despite knowing that he hardly gave people the name. Usually before killing them. It wasn't too surprising that it would spread but it really was a wonder how fast information can travel. Or maybe he just had the right connections.

"Well then, better get going. You've linked up to my comm right?" A nod. "Good, I'll tell you the plan on the way."

And with that, they both dived off the building, grapples ready. And as he followed, Jason felt a wave of belonging and loss - of nostalgia he would later realise - as he followed the dark shape through Gotham's crime-ridden streets.


	10. Fade Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One may live to see the man their father becomes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have internet, omg, I need to do this fast.
> 
> My internet has sucked for the past two weeks, I have been waiting for a chance to strike with copy and paste for notes and the chapter itself.
> 
> I may do a side series going over why I wrote things the way I did, analysing my own writing to help with my own and maybe others. Please let me know if you're interested, if I do do it I won't tag it fully to save people from bore so it's only for those that are actually interested really.
> 
> Now, I tried something new with this chapter, a change of point of view, otherwise known as POV. I think this can be really helpful but if I could have some feedback on it then that would be great. It will help explore more and make writing this easier rather than hinting at "Oh, the Bat was mad" and such.
> 
> Warning: Character death, somewhat canonical though.
> 
> Copy and paste is my lord and saviour atm.

\-------------------  
|Wingman POV|  
\-------------------

Wingman watched as the man - no - the boy hacked into the prisons security feed. He couldn't help but feel as if something was familiar with Red. Like he knew him once. It wouldn't be too surprising given his own apparent death and having to leave a life behind but it wasn't like he forgot anything. He had many regrets and he will not forget any one of them. They kept him going, kept him fighting. He cheated on the love of his life and failed to protect her. He left a son on the streets. He never got to see that son ever again with death collapsing his life and wiping his son's existance from the Earth. Wingman had worked for the wrong people, sucked into the life of crime, the core of Gotham city. And he had been soo willing. So, yes, his regrets kept him functioning, kept him pushing.

Red nodded to him and they soon were stalking the halls of the prison, taking out guards and scientists with ease. Wingman was almost surprised at the high level team work ability that Red displayed, seeming to know every single move of the enemy and Wingman himself. It was unsettling but he reminded himself that it was simply League training, no matter how advanced it was.

Eventually they made it down to the labs, Wingman meeting up with one of his informants and Red taking the people he pointed out down from the rafters. The kid was a good shot and Wingman was not doubting his ability to assassinate the deadiliest oppoments. His mind flicked to Shiva and he had to supress a shudder. He wouldn't be surprised if they were related.

The informant did not have good News. The possibility of the Rogues meeting up was high tonight, an unexpected meeting but there had been glimpses of Two Face and a few others. Wingman felt his blood boil at the mention of Two Face. His apparent death was rightfully suspected to be caused by the coin-flipping Cruella De Vil turned man in a suit. He wouldn't be surprised if that had happened.

Wingman motioned for Red to be on guard as he went deeper into the lab, gathering evidence and things he did not want in the wrong hands(though his own hands probably weren't any better - he just had a higher chance of destroying it before it got ugly). He found a satchel to stuff the folders and notes into, papers of inmates, machines and metahuman experimentation crinkling as he tried not to rip them apart.

This whole thing was making old habits come back again, the itch to tip back a whole bottle of alcohol and shout making his fingers twitch. He wanted to break something.

Wingman clenched his hands, drew a deep breath and let it go, shaking out his hands. He couldn't allow his own bad experiences make other people's worse.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Red, head tilted as if watching him curiously. The whole point he was there was to help Wingman with this mission, especially should he - as much as he wants to deny it - become irrational. Red was ment to cover up any slip ups and provide a second pair of lethal hands.

Zipping up the bag, Wingman turned to the kid, adressing him as he spoke, "We need to find the cells and do something with the metahumans. They should be in the west wing if my information is correct."

Red nodded and brang up a map on the screen on his arm. Wingman wouldn't be surprised if it was stolen equipment or one of the last things given from The Light. Guards were dotted across the screen, the first one from the one passage over-extending from the others. There weren't any vents or other easily accessed vantage points on the map, meaning they would have to go through the hallways to get there. No vents, no metas escaping and no hidden vigilante.

They made their way through the cold, lifeless hallways and finally came to the prisoner block. Red behind him, he wasn't going to get the kid shot in the face, he looked around the corner. The guards were already alerted for intruders and Wingman soon found himself tackling the armed man that spotted him soo soon. He used the weight of the bag to keep the man down while wrestling the gun from his grip, snapping the guards wrist in the process. Stomping down on the mans face before he could scream, Wingman looked behind to tell Red to stay behind him and out of the crosshair of any weapon. He knew he probably didn't need to worry but Red had had plenty of close calls already and didn't soo much as flinch. Wingman wasn't sure if Red even knew how tightly he manages to avoid injury. It was a concerning type of oblivious behaviour, given that he should know with his level of training.

They ran towards the rest of the guards, Wingman smasing his fist into the next guard's face and Red sliding under fire, kicking out the legs of the closest guard. Wingman heard the quiet woosh of metal cutting through air as Red twisted and pounced at the next enemy and allowed himself to focus on disarming and knocking out the rest of the guards.

Perhaps he had hit too hard once too manyt times. Perhaps Red was short on the rope of mercy that stopped karma from hitting back.

The bullet lodged itself into his thigh all too suddenly and Wingman received a uppercut to his chin, teeth grinding together and gums burning. He saw Red spin to aid him only for a baton to take out his leg and crash against his skull.

Whatever the Al Ghuls had done to the kid stopped Red from falling all the way, instead springing back up and shove a knife into the bottom of his attackers jaw. A gurgled shout and the man stumbling back was Red's chance to aim his gun at the shooter that got Wingman and blow their brains out.

Wingman managed to head lock the one who had uppercut him and use the struggling body as a human shield to get to the next enemy. It wasn't going to get better.

When all the guards were finally out cold, Wingman had an injured leg, cracked ribs and a hand that kept spasming - he wasn't sure what happened to it but it seemed to infuriate a old injury from were he fractured a finger - while Red probably had a concussion, seemed to be favouring his shoulder and had a slight limp. 

They delt with the prisoners quickly, opening the cells and pointing them out. If any weren't traumatised enough to be unlikely to comit crime then they would soon be locked up by the Bats. There was no point in calling the police.

"Okay, lets get goin-" Wingman's eyes widened as a gunshot rang out, Red dropping like a stone and the sharp grin of a pointed-nose villian flashing in the edges of his vision. He wasted no time running to Red and, using one of the boys guns to provide some cover, picked him up. Leaning the boy against him and holding him up, Wingman ran, leg protesting and hands trembling with each shot he took. He never wanted to hold a gun again.

Red was barely coherent by the time they got to proper cover, head rolling to the side and small noises that sounded like they were meant to be words.

Wingman quickly looked over the boy, finding the bullet went cleanly through, just below his ribs.

"You came..." It was quiet but Wingman still heard it. He would have to look at Red's head, check his eyes to determine the severity of the concussion he'd gained.

Seeing what he did, injured and skilled in the ways he wished he wasn't, made Wingman made a decision, the thuds of hostiles right round the corner.

"It's going to be okay my son. No one is going to hurt you if I can help it. Not anymore Jason."

\--------------------  
|Jason/Red POV|  
\--------------------

Jason felt his body shudder at the force of colliding with the closets wall(he wasn't sure how much force, he didn't think it was much but it felt like more than he thought), seeing the door swing shut infront of him and his surroundings become dark despite the green cutting across his vision. If anything, the green only intensified as Jason pressed his uninjured shoulder against the door to try force it open, avoiding pressure to any of his wounds. It only gave him the knowledge that the door was locked, a click signifying it so.

He could barely hear anything other than muffled shouting and gunfire, his thoughts mumbling together as his mind tried to keep up. Wingman knew who he was. That much was clear. But he didn't know anyone that could call him 'son' other than Talia and maybe the Bat but the Bat thought he was dead.

A dulled laughing, twisted in a way that made it sound like an animal only to become sharp, as if it was pressing into his skin, closing his airway and crushing his joints.

Eventually, he found himself collapsed in the corner, first aid from his back pack applied. Jason hardly registered that he had done so, too focused on how small the space was, how little air to breath, the wooden walls closing in and - oh god he was trapped, he couldn't get out, he was buried, he couldn't breathe - it was dark and silent.

The gunshots and shouting had faded but he could hear his shuddering breathing and the loud beat of his heart. It was damp and dry all at once and warm - too warm - , smelling of dirt and smoke.

For a moment, Jason thought he was in a warehouse, calming ticking in tune with his heart beat. Somehow, the ticking turned ugly and he realised he wasn't in a warehouse. Ticking flat-lined and he was burned and buried, six-feet under with a slab of stone marking his awakening place.

He began to dig through the wood, everything blurring together until he found himself kneeling on the floor, wooden shards left behind and a body infront of him.

Fingers reaching forward, Jason took off the visor that hid the mans face and stared, visor heavy in his hands as he stared at the man that was his father. Pain became a steady thrum in his head as Jason found himself confused. Wasn't the Bat his father? Who was Wingman?

It hit all at once, making him grit his teeth, visor hitting the floor and hands going up to cradle his head. Eyes wide, he pressed his forehead to the floor, feeling the stinging sensation of tears only after they fell and left burning paths down his cheeks before turning direction with his position.

The concussion and all the previous rememberings felt like a candle compared to the inferno that was now. His entire body shook, his nerves the embers of burning wood, his veins transporting not blood but magma. His bones felt like metal, just like when he woke up in Talia's care but all soo much worse, as if they were fracturing like wood; his skull especially felt like it was shattering, shards of pain stabbing his brain and probing around for every last memory that had been buried with the boy whose body was ripped apart by a crowbar and an explosion and whose mind torn into by the laughter of a unnaturally pale man in a purple suit.

It was too much.

As he looked at the body infront of him, Jason Todd saw his father, the one that his mother loved. He saw Willis Todd, the man Catherine Todd loved.

Everything became a blur of greens, reds and purples, Jason taking the satchel and his back pack, placing the visor inside, and running. His leg screamed in protest but he hardly noticed, still jittery with the pain his mind supplied. He didn't even register that he was missing a gun, let alone both masks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> Something I want to explain for a moment:
> 
> I really enjoyed the thought of Willis coming back and trying to help. My own dad always tried his hardest and had served in the military and killed children that were given a gun and told to kill. My mother, excuse my language, was an absolute bitch. I won't go into details but I do believe that people do deserve a second chance unless they've gone past the point of no return. There's a difference between my dad and my mother. One had a duty, the other was based on selfish want.
> 
> Having someone that's done something horrible to you and/or someone you're close to being able to breathe and think is absolutely horrible. You become paranoid, can't let you're guard down unless you're with multiple someones you trust; even then, what if you put your trust in the wrong people? What if they're the same? And they can still hurt people, do the same they already had and inflict it on people you may never even know or maybe come for round two, ignoring anything that may be in the way. It's terrifying. It makes you squirm in the darkness of you room as they could be thinking of you, of your loved ones and even worse things to do.
> 
> I doubt I will ever fully understand how Jason feels but I can certainly understand some it.
> 
> Rant over, I hope you take care and do reach out for help if something bad is happening at home or anywhere really.


	11. I Don't Want To Know Who I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To clear the mind, one may need to let it all out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck you Wifi, I'm back and you're not going to stop me. 
> 
> Sorry for the wait, I'm gonna try make up for it.
> 
> Chapter title is lyrics from It's Alright by Mother Mother.

Jason's stare glided over the roofs of Gotham as he waited, his heart a running rabbit fleeing from a fox. 

He didn't know what do. He didn't know what he was waiting for. 

His frame subconsiously tried to shrink in on itself, tremors keeping every nerve alert and oversensitive. If the wind was loud, the noises of vehicles seemed to roar and voices seemed to chant, their words twisting and drowning out the ones that were helpfull in his head.

Jason's rush of rememberance had faded but it was a tangled mess, unreliable and making his instincts change at seemingly constant. One moment he wanted off the roof, then back on, away from the people, to blend in with them. It was a highly unappetising mix that would make the Al Ghuls shake their head in shame. Damian would view him as another obstacle and Talia would no longer see him as someone useful. Ra's would finally get to dissect him(how did he know that? He didn't before but why? Was it when he was catatonic? Why couldn't he think straight?) and his surviving training partners would get to team up on him, beat him into a blood pulp, shove him under the surface of the pit and go for round two.

His eyes were wide when he flinched back from the flutter of a pigeons wings, pressing himself tighter to the gargole beside him. He felt its chest move and scrambled back, searching the stone statue for signs of life. The light from the city did nothing to help as he became sure its eyes were glowing. Some rational part of his brain screamed that he was panicking but was all but drowned out by his fucked up head. All he wanted was to sleep, to forget and leave it for future him, even though he would surely regret it.

In the end, it didn't seem like he had much choice, going completely limp on the roof and staring up at the starless sky. It took a few moments for his lungs to register that they weren't sending any oxygen to the ball of tissue called a brain. He wasn't sure how long it took for his breathing to settle, all he knew was the cascade of different emotions that seemed to want to drown him. 

Familiar anger constricted his chest but without the green to blur his vision. Panic grasped at his throat but without the adrenaline of being chased. Relief made his legs feel like the rubber from a tire or an eraser but without safety. Happiness but without the soft fur of the cat rubbing against his cheek.

He choked on a sob, tears clouding his vision as the timeline in his head unraveled, revealing the visit to the circus with Willis, the death of Catherine, stealing the tires and everything afterward. His hand shook as it came up to silence his cries; the memory of Dick Grayson slowly accepting him only for the progress to be cut short and everyone else suddenly disappearing. Alfred, Conner, Artemis, Roy, the first Robin's friends who he could make his own, even the friendlier Rogues.

His vision was devoid of the greens, reds, and purples, instead flooded with the yellow and blues of nighttime Gotham without interference. The sky wasn't red, the buildings weren't stained with purple and the streets weren't bathed in green. There wasn't any chemicals or paint from a Jokerised surprise or one of Scarecrows new toxins.

But death was everywhere. The pale ghosts that hovered on every corner was enough evidence for him to see that, drifting further from their corpses and willing the living to slowly slip from their shells.

Jason knew he should probably move before the Bats found him with their crazy methods(though he knew they likely had cameras and sensors everywhere) and found him acting like he was high on something alike to getting everything you never knew you lost back only for it to be ripped away.

Everything that has happened was painted in a bitter light. He knew the true name of Nightwing but was it still a trigger? He remembered Willis but he was dead. He remembered how close he and Bruce had gotten but would Bruce even think of him as anything more than a possible clone with the blood he had on his hands? He remembered the difficulties of being Robin but could he even accept Tim as the new Robin, let alone help him? And the Joker was still alive. If he found out Jason was alive, would he come for him to beat him again and laugh in his face, laugh in Bruce's face when he finds that Jason wasn't a clone? Some of it gave Jason a sick sadisfaction at the thought of Bruce's reaction.

Did he still want revenge against the Bat? For letting a monster live. He wasn't soo sure anymore, not when soo many people could have done it, not when Bruce could lose himself. The bitterness of finding a new Robin stopping the escalation of violence towards Gothams criminals seemed to fade. Without the green to corrupt his thoughts and strike up irrational ideas, Jason slowly felt himself losing. He didn't know what to do.

He closed his eyes, another sob wracking his body, the satchel lying a few feet away, his back pack hanging off his arm. Jason wasn't sure he could move if he wanted to. Everything felt detached.

It was as if he was that boy in the ally but he should be the assassin the Al Ghuls raised. It was as if his father was shitty at his role but sometimes bared fruits, the sweetest fruits, in the form of circus tickets and a bowl of popcorn on the couch. His brother was meant to overlook him, not look up to him but he wasn't sure what he prefered.

Jason reached up with his other hand clutching his ears, trying to drown out the ringing that came with the tears. He stared at the sky, wanting to shout why, his vision wavering.

That was probably why he didn't hear the soft thud of footsteps, ones he'd be trained to pick up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Cassandra Cain POV  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cass watched silently as Dick, in his Nightwing outfit, conversed with Artemis, the archer nodding in agreement to what he said. She couldn't hear them from her perch, atop one of the suspended, out-of-date models of the Batwing, but from what she could see of their faces they were talking about the newest player within Gotham.

Red was possibly his name, though not many had gotten a hold of it, at least not after someones brains were used as decor, and he was clearly skilled. They didn't know his age, nor real name, had no use trying to catch him with one of the grapples designed to twist round and catch an escaping criminal and he had killed a target under the supervision of four vigilantes, two of which were full-fledged protectors of their own respective cities.

Cass frowned at the memory of Tim's pale face as Spoiler rushed him to the med bay, his head drooping and rolling from side to side as he tried to focus. Bruce was frowning since that day displeased that he actually had to use the grapple he had come up with in advance and that another had died. Now Dick was informing Artemis to keep a look out for when she was in Gotham.

Artemis asked who else should know but Dick only just shook his head, shoulders rising with uncertainty. Cass could guess that they'd encountered this 'Red' before and didn't know how far spread he was. His few encounters made it hard to gauge how much of a threat he was, whether he killed for the Al Ghuls, was a mecenary like Deathstroke or even was working for his own agenda. The last one was something Cass doubted.

His body language screamed danger yet also held doubt that would suddenly unnaturally switch to steely confidence. She hoped someone else had also noticed, she wasn't sure how to voice it, danger seeming to be both something he was of and something he was in. Cass also knew that something about her he recognised, red lenses staring her down as he aimed the barrel of a gun up at her.

Right now, as she watched her fellow vigilantes, she wondered where he went. Batman had chased him but that was all she knew but Nightwing should know more. Dick turned, leading Artemis towards the large screens within the center. His lips were downturned, brow furrowed and fingers twitching, almost twisting into fists. He was unsettled, hair messy for his standards, steps bouncing slightly with restless energy. He spoke as he walked, about some footage they had that Bruce had only recently stopped looking over for some rest. Cass hadn't got to see any so, as any other curious Bat-child, she followed.

Now perched atop one of the numerous suit cases, Cass got a clear view of the screen. Dick quickly typed out commands and stood back as the camera showed the zoom in on a pixelated figure, rendering it quickly and showing the new look for Red, scope of the rifle glinting slightly and aim straight on the camera.

Dick took a deep breath, Cassandra doing the same subconsciously, and hit play.


	12. And The Hero I'm Waiting For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someones father may be the perpetrator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No ones commented on the POV switching so I guess it's okay??? Idk.
> 
> I'm learning how to tag, soo hopefully it will look better. Maybe.
> 
> Chapter Title: Paralyzed by Solence  
> Can I just say how much I love this band, like I only started realising I was listening to multiple of their songs a while ago and decided to listen to more and I regret only not realising earlier.
> 
> Also, I love you guys. Seeing kudos going up and comments make me feel like I'm accomplishing something in life for once lol.

Cass sat back, replaying what she had seen on the screen. This was more than just a random assassin choosing to terrorise Gotham. Something was wrong with Red's mentality. Not in the way of Joker or any wealth thirsty criminals of the streets under the Bat's light. 

Artemis looked tense, bringing her hand up to her neck as she shared her thoughts with Dick. A nervous tick she had, Cass had noticed. She didn't try to wrap her hand round her neck, just stroked it as if she was searching for something. Cass wasn't all to sure what if she was correct. 

She retreated from the cave, staying to shadows even as she reached the long empty halls of the manor. Soon she reached the door of her objective, slipping in without knocking.

Tim let a tired, all-suffering sigh as he watched Stephanie attempt to balance a Batman action figure on the trianglar tower of plastic cups on the bed-side table. He seemed almost keen to snuggle under the covers even further, only to eye the door with absolute passion and interest. Keen to get his next fix of caffeine.

Cass made her presence known with a quick snatch of the Batman action figure, Steph letting out a startled squawk as Cass held it infront of Tim. The boy only had the energy to look up at her with steadily increasing confusion.

"No coffee. Bad. Alfred says so." She grumbled, moving the figure as if it was talking, nodding in satisfaction.

Tim let out a dramatic groan, throwing his head back and rubbing his eyes, "I'm going into withdrawal! We can slowly lower my intake instead," He paused before adding, "It won't feel as horrible then."

"Alfred says you need to get it over and done with and when better when you aren't allowed to move, can't otherwise you'd just hurt yourself then have to go and get if fixed. Letting Alfred know your misdeeds." Stephanie chimed in, Cass passing the action figure back to the blonde.

Cass decided to get straight to the point, "Red hurts."

"Yeah, well think how I feel. He shot me- Well, Dick almost but that's not the point." Tim huffed, crossing his arms.

"Not that kind. Mind, he hurts in mind." Cass countered, frustrated.

"Mentally? Like... let's say Harley Quinn?" Steph guessed, eyes narrowed as she tried a new angle, upside down.

Cass pondered for a moment. She wasn't really sure so she shrugged her shoulders.

"What made you think that Cass?" Tim asked, inquisitive eyes searching.

"Video, him holding his head, wasn't hit. Fell, didn't hit head. Ran, was scared." Cass answered, "He hurt mentally." She was quite proud to try that new word but kept it to herself considering the topic.

Tim nodded before putting in, "Red doesn't seem to care soo much about injury and he knew we had put a tracker on that knife. He's probably still active, but I don't know if we can find him easily."

"Hmm... Maybe the Al Ghuls got hold on some of our technology-."

A knocked sounded, cutting Steph off and opening to reveal a Dick Grayson, Nightwing costume under a hurriedly equipped hoodie. No doubt trying to get past Alfred without him noticing.

"Some gunfire heard up North and it sounds bad, anyone except for Tim in? Artemis was needed elsewhere." Dick gave a sheepish smile towards the current Boy Wonder, who in turn sent him a pouted glare.

Cass stepped forward with a nod while Steph poked her tounge out and scrunched her nose as she tried to balance the Batman figure, shaking her head slowly.

"I have patrol later." The blonde murmured, giving the action figure a look that Bruce would have just looked back at her with confusion and disappointment.

"Ok, looks like it's just you and me Cass! Bruce hasn't been informed, we want him to rest but if things get bad, we will call for back-up." Dick said as they left the other vigilantes behind.

Down in the cave, they were quick to suit up and hop on a motorbike, Cass using this as a chance to give Dick hug before they took off. It took a while, more traffic and the shots fired being reported quite far out but Dick was used to day light hours thanks his time with the team and still managed to get them to the location faster than expected.

However, the prison was silent, sirens weren't even on as members of GCPD stopped the flow of traffic around the prison. Cass frowned. That was fast and no one was fighting the cops. Someone must've alerted the police but who fired the guns and how was it over soo fast. It wasn't a shoot out.

Dick must have recognised someone from the police force, jogging up and beginning to ask questions. Cass slunk into the shadows, not keen on finding out the police's opinion on her. They may adore the first Robin but she had no idea as to what they'd think of her. She was mainly based on intimadation rather than charm and she had no doubt that there were still corrupt individuals within the force, despite Gordon's efforts.

Soon enough, Nightwing was led to the main crime scene. Or what appeared to be as Cass ignored the open cells and dead guards in favour of going towards the back of the building. All too soon she found a body dressed dark with a cape. For a moment, she tensed, eyes widening before she realised it wasn't Bruce. The suit was metallic and she couldn't see a cowl, the mans face becoming clear when she moved closer. He was close to Bruce's age, probably older and about his height. His eyes were staring off, glazed and empty and there were obvious wounds. He didn't go down quickly.

Cass looked away for a moment, closing her eyes and gathering herself. Opening her eyes, she spotted splintered wood, a broken door to a closet. It looked like someone had broken out of it. Some of the wood fell on the man, so it wasn't him that was in it and whoever had been only got out after he was downed.

"The security feed was hacked. No one knows who was here-" Nightwing cut himself off as Cass looked up at him, his eyes fixed on the body.

"Dead. Don't know who." Cass spoke simply, seeing no one else about. Nightwing must've left any friends to find her.

NIghtwing frowned and stepped closer cautiously before giving the room a full sweep, no doubt recording the scene. He made sure to look over the body, Cass pointing out the closet and wood and recieving a nod of acknowledgement. He stood back and sighed before turning to Cass.

"Can you look about outside, see if anything is off. I will be inside gathering data. Meet back at the bike when you're done. It's getting dark so there might be more suspicious activity out there."

Cass noded before turning and darting out of the buildings back entrance and taking to the roofs.

It was too soon when she came across the quietest crying she's ever heard that wasn't quite silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More dialogue... Not soo much action. I'm surprised that this was easier than usual. I suck at conversation and love writing action even if it turns out a bit... Batman Ninja type. That movie though... It had all the boys. Surprisingly.
> 
> Hope you liked it! Updated way earlier than last time because now my internet connection isn't acting like Batman's spine on Bane's knee.


	13. He Won't Show Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someones child may be the perpetrator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time but it needed to be done.
> 
> Chapter title is a continuation from the last one.
> 
> A question must be asked, see end notes when you've finished!

Cass could only watch as what must be Red cried. He was distraught, shuddering as he cut his sobs off before they could escape. In the moment, Cass forgot all that he'd done as she realized Red couldn't be that older than her and was clearly struggling with himself. She couldn't see his face, his hands bracketing his face. She knew that she could probably get closer enough to see but she felt like she was intruding, even if this was a new villain on the already crowded streets.

Cass frowned as she studied the boy, seeing bandages and blood, satchel and backpack lying beside him. They weren't closed fully, allowing her to see some of the contents. Hesitantly, she reached up and pressed the sensor on the side of her mask, seeing the small red blink that signified that the recording has started. Using the zoom, though she did not like to use it when it made her field of view smaller, she focused on the insides of the bags for a moment, seeing paper work and booklets within the satchel and a mix of supplies in the backpack, along with a helm.

It had a red pane within a slit, were the eyes would be behind and pointed ears. It was the same metallic colour as the previous bodies suit. 

Cass slowly stepped forward only for the boy to tense and suddenly reach out to his backpack, and bring the visor to his own face, ruining any chance Cass had at seeing his face. He was on his feet in seconds, facing her in a defensive stance. It was clear he was exhausted, shivering but as tense as one could be.

Cass felt herself itching to slide into one of her own combat stances but withheld as she raised her hands infront of her. She saw Red sagged just slightly, before gesturing to the satchel and signing for her to take it. He grabbed the backpack and began backing away.

Cass signed for him to stay, frantic in the action as she recovered from the shock of him knowing sign language. Red shook his head, just managing to stop from tripping over himself, mouth pulled in a tight line.

Cass reached for him as he lept off the building, feeling herself dash forward on pure instinct and seeing him disappear like on of the bats themselves.

Clenching her fists and biting the inside of her cheek lightly, Cass turned, knowing she didn't have a chance on finding him alone. Turning the recording off, she gave the satchel a brief scan for weapons like bombs or EMPs before picking it up. With one last glance in the direction Red had went, she began to make her way back to the bike. 

++++++++++  
Jason POV  
++++++++++

Jason all but stumbled into the apartment, hearing a meow greet him and letting his knees give in finally. The ghost had watched him come in with a curious stare but, as always, only observed.

Yellow eyes blinked up at him as the cat cautiously approached him and he could only smile and take the visor off, hand reaching forward. He felt the cold nose press against his fingers before the cat pushed herself against his palm. Jason held its cheek, rubbing his fingers behind her ear as the cat leaned into the movement.

For once, Jason could recognise the happiness blooming in his chest. His legs ached with the effort of traveling here and his shoulders were sore, especially the one that had been hit with the grapple but he didn't care soo much - he finally made it back and he could ignore his memories for a while.

"I need to give you a name, don't I? And food." He spoke quietly, the feline watching with slow-blinking eyes. He picked her up and let her snuggle against his shoulder and neck, feeling the purr in her chest and letting himself close his eyes as he ran his fingers through soft fur. His early encounter was still on his mind but now he knew the Bats would be able to handle what was within the satchel.

With that, he cleared his backpack so the feline could sit inside, keeping it open and contacted Talia. Leaning down, he gave the cat a kiss, getting a head butt in return. He would think later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cat needs a name. I'm asking for suggestions.
> 
> What probably should be noted:  
> \- I did originally plan to name her Red, to signify Jason moving on but I also want to know what you guys think.   
> \- She is based on my old cat and I almost did name her after her but decided not to, mainly because it didn't really fit but also because I want you guys to help decide.
> 
> So, what shall the cat be called?


	14. Taking Their Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's Party, Someone's Detective Case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title, lyrics from Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes
> 
> Aaah, this chapter was hard. Part of it was naming the cat, the other was figuring out some stuff to do with plot and another part was how much more busy I've been since the last Chapter. And I'm still not happy with it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy anyways.

"You know you should be resting."

Tim tensed at the voice, hand on the back of the chair, crutch leaned against the Batcomputers desk. Turning his head, he found himself face to face with a smug looking Nightwing.

"I've had to stop B twice already from coming down here and you bet Alfie has done the same even more than me. So, I'm guessing you're here for similar reasons." As the older vigilante spoke, Tim moved and sat in the chair, glaring in defiance at his black and blue costumed brother. Dick crossed his arms, raising a brow, visible even through his mask, "Now I know how Bruce feels when a Robin sneaks down here."

"Then you should know there's no stopping me." Tim retorted, mirroring Dick's crossed arms for a moment only to unfold them to begin tapping away at the computer. He heard a snort of laughter and felt Dick lean over the back of the chair, resting his chin again Tim's head.

"Wrong file."

Tim breathed in sharply before peeking up at the blue-eyed former circus boy quizzically. He was given a smirk.

"Top right. Where things haven't been checked by Bruce. Almost always empty. This is the day you get to see something in there." Dick spoke proudly, snapping his fingers into finger-guns pointing to said file.

Tim clicked the files and saw the clips and files submitted by both Dick and Cass. There was photos of evidence that had been handed over to the police, patient files and notes from the looks of it.

"They were creating Metahumans. Within the prison there were zero repercussions. No one cares much for criminals, especially those in Gotham and Bludhaven. It's possible that Willis Todd, who we found dead, was going against these prisons. We found things pointing to him being responsible for the attacks against other prisons." Dick took a deep breath, raising a hand to rub his temple, a motion picked up from Bruce, "His costume is clever, making people mistake him for Batman and being able to lie low. It was essential for him to lie low. It's why we never got word of him, no one reported to us about him. He was meant to be dead, died in prison. He may have even known about Robins. I'm sure you can see the link now."

Tim hummed before looking through the evidence, Dick pointing out a few things. Eventually, Bruce managed to get past Alfred and joined them, mug of coffee in his hand. That mug was no longer in Bruce's hands by the time they gone through the evidence, Tim feeling refreshed and good as new.

============  
|Jason's POV|  
============

When he finally got back to the compound, after a distressing helicopter ride back, within which he tried to come to terms with what had happened only hours before, Jason was quick to carry the cat into the warmth of the building and into his own room, sitting down and giving her some much needed attention.

He had a few ideas for a name, though he wasn't sure which one he'd want to go for. There were plenty of dramatic names for cats, all pretty fitting for such an elegant creature but he was reminded that this cat was practically a street rat, just like him. So maybe not so fitting? He wasn't sure. 

Jason considered naming her Red and taking up a new title. It'd help to move on, 'Red' seemed to roll of his tongue weird now when refering to his 'mantle'. But it'd also remind him of his failures during the time he went by that name. It wasn't something he felt comfortable with, despite Talia's lessons against the things he should be absolutely terrified of. Talia always had helped, he may have not realised it at the time but he certainly could see it now.

Another name could be Catherine, or a shortened version of it, to pay respects the woman who originally raised him. Jason had loved the idea at first but the memories of the last few years with his mother came back to deter him at last.

Nocturna was another option, another mother figure that he had any ounce of respect for. The love between her and Bruce seemed genuine but that connection was probably the biggest downfall for the name. He didn't know what to think of the Dark Knight anymore, not the man behind the mask nor the one parading around with a group of birds and bats in dominoes and cowls. 

The urge to name the cat after a Shakespearean character, or any character from a book really, had come with a childlike happiness. Should he name her after a character from Pride and Prejudice? Juliet? She didn't have a Romeo so it didn't feel very fitting and the ending of that tale wasn't something he'd want to happen. Call him superstitious all you want.

Maybe after someone he admired in some degree? Wonder? Diana? Maybe not a superhero... Marilyn? His mother had loved the woman, both as a model, actress and a singer. But they had been soo similar in his eyes, beautiful and empowering only to meet and early end with the lull of drugs.

Jason did feel like he should name the cat after someone, in some form a respect. He didn't have to explain it to anyone. It was marking the return of his memories and he knew that he could-should have a connection. It would almost be like an anchor. Bracing himself, he searched his memories that he tried to ignore, finding significant moments and tracing names and their meanings. He didn't want to regret this name.

Finally, remembering a horrid man falling to his death, Jason landed on the memory of Gloria. A painful one but one that he could certainly use to help him keep going forward. He made sure no one got hurt by that man again, through his own means, accidentally or not.

The Joker was still out there, waiting for the opportune moment to strike sickly yellow fear into the coiled Heart of Gotham.

As he met Gloria's vibrant eyes, Jason reminded himself: No one is safe until that man-no-that Monster is ripped from existence. Gloria's eyes drifted close and he felt the wave of green-red rage wrap around him. He wasn't going to let anyone to get hurt by him again.

A gentle knock on the door drew Jason's attention away from Gloria and Talia walked in, her eyes crinkling in a hint of smile upon seeing the cat. Her walk to the bed was smooth, as if she had just glided over the floor. Jason saw some concern hidden beneath the woman's face and let her hands reach for him. Her touch was more firm than Catherines but not without an inch of care. She didn't brush her hands through his hair like Catherine but she made sure his clothes were clean and without crinkle. She met his eyes as an equal and kept her duties as a mother. Catherine had looked at him with pity and regret, unable to hold the responsibilities Gotham's cold talons tugged from her hands.

Jason didn't have high expectations. Not for his mother who had already went through soo much and may not know how a normal family functions. He may have lost a father, more than once, but his mother was strong, in her own ways.

So he sat there, stroking Gloria and listening as Talia spoke, telling him of Damian's training segment coming to an end and his availability. Her arm over his shoulder and the other holding his hand could be seen as awkward but when one comes to understand another, nothing makes their interactions out of place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the name suggestions! It was difficult to choose but I ended going with Gloria from Peek0A0Blue! If you're curious about the names that I could have gone for, check out the comments from last Chapter, there's more on Gloria there as well!
> 
> I tried to build up some relationship with Talia and Jason, considering a lot of what I'm trying to show was in the past. This made me draw parallels I did not expect in all honesty. I'm pretty happy with it, at least for now...
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	15. Right Behind My Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you even wanna know everything? Even if you once knew?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title a continuation of the lyrics from the last chapter title.
> 
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated! It lets me know if I'm doing things right! 
> 
> I will probably take some time before posting the next chapter to go through and fix any mistakes in previous chapters that I can see but it won't change the story and you won't have to go back and reread things.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Jason had been training his steadiness and balance within one of the private training rooms, handling his weapons while performing stunts. Gloria had been whisked away by Talia as soon as they woke up, so she could be checked by the vets. He was sure it was love at first sight, Gloria head butting Talia when the woman lifted her up to look at her eyes. Talia just smiled and said she had pretty eyes, a nice contrast to the green that was everywhere.

On his tip toes, Jason walked down a 'fence'(only a foot high) while waving a sword slowly from side to side in lazy imitations of proper moves. He did plan to go faster but he needed to make sure he was ready to do so. He still had some shakes from the day before and wanted to still be functional when he tried sort his thoughts and find his opinions.

Just as he stepped off the end of the fence and turned to step back up again, the door to the room opened, a small whooshing sound with the tiniest squeaks from the hinges. A cat was quick to wrap itself around his legs. It was bigger than Gloria, more poofier as well. Looking down, he saw a light grey, long-haired tom cat looking up at him with green eyes. His face was slightly squashed, the shorter snout showing that he was more likely a housecat. Jason sheathed his sword, the cat looking on expectantly.

"Hi Tayir." He reached down, rubbing his knuckles against the soft silver cheek of the feline. He had softer fur than Gloria but more likely to swipe at those he doesn't like. Gloria was more likely to flee but seeing the big tom cat fling himself at the face of a servant who'd got too close had been pretty funny, at least the memory was. 

Jason looked up and smiled towards Damian who stood at the doorway. The boys eyes widened slightly and he looked at Jason with the most flabbergasted expression the older had ever seen on his brothers face. Damian had clearly grown, perhaps thanks to the aid of the medication or natural growing(something he doubted). He quickly composed himself, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame, eyelids dropping slightly and looking at Jason as if he were prey. Though he probably didn't even mean it, as Jason had seen Talia doing the same thing and seeing someone shorter do it was funny. He undoubtfully was learning to pick up even the small things.

"I see you've finally snapped out of it. Grandfather would be pleased." Another thing he must have picked up, Talia never treated his memory loss as something he could easily overcome, "Tayir, leave. You'll get fur all over his clothes." Damian commanded, the cat turning to sit a few feet away.

Jason remembered Talia making up an excuse about leadership skill cultivation when getting the cat, so Ra's didn't take him away. Damian basically grew up with the cat and trained him. They even shared the same virtual world... What? Jason disguised his shock and horror from Damian as he realised that it was more than medicine that raised Damian. A virtual world, as if he grew up without the medication. It wasn't machinery nor was it magic. Meta? Martian? He's not sure. Neither could he look into it when talking to Damian.

Jason straightened and rested the tip of his blade against the ground, watching as Damian instinctively straightened to try and match his height.

"How has your training been going?" He asked, trying to make small talk. Jason tried to make himself seem friendly, though that was hard enough with a swords hilt firmly in his hand.

"Extremely well." Damian spoke as if he was quoting someone, looking flippant with what he said next, "As if that would change. I always aim to be better. It pleases Grandfather."

Jason nodded, though he felt a sick stab of green hatred towards Ra's. He told himself it was just the pit, not his detest of those who use children and damage them in the process. Damian wasn't a number, wasn't a runner, he wasn't passing on messages or substances. He wasn't a little soldier. He was a heir.

Damian didn't seem to notice any negative emotion, taking a few strides forward and taking the sword from Jason's grip. Jason narrowed his eyes as Damian looked over the blade before looking up at him with a challenging gaze. Damian was testing how much he could get away with, how much control he had over Jason. He wasn't surprised, Damian could have had a increase in Ra's influence, his use of language said it all.

"I don't understand your way of training, without a partner is there anything to learn at your level?" Damian scoffed, tapping the blade lightly against Jason's arm. He turned and began to walk along the fence as Jason had. The boy wobbled the slightest bit and stiffened.

"It helps practise for when you're running and fighting across roofs, sometimes you'll have to cross a fence or simply need good balance. You'll need it if you ever go to Gotham planning to fight. Of course, in the other compound there's a better course." Jason spoke, standing back as Damian continued forward, sword barely moving.

Damian came back, handing back the sword, "I'm sure we can have mother get some servants implement one here."

"Maybe." Jason shrugged, before gesturing to the door, "Do you want to go somewhere?"

"I would like a look at your quarters. To see if they meet the requirements and should I need to find you in case of emergency." Damian spoke, already walking out of the room. Jason quickly put the sword back in its sheath against the wall and followed Damian out, Tayir on his heels.

As he fell into step with his brother, Jason remembered the few times Dick had been friendly with him. One day, Jason was going to take Damian to have ice cream, whether Ra's liked it or not.

+++++++++++  
Dick's POV  
+++++++++++

Dick huffed in resignation as he found Tim wide awake, the ravenette sipping on a hot brown drink that Dick knew wasn't hot chocolate nor tea. At least it wasn't as dark as Granny Goodness's soul. Tim sat at the bat computer, feet up and watching the clips yet again. They had compiled new folders for Red and Willis' 'Wingman', despite his status.

Tim looked up, eyes widening and mug jerking slightly, as if he just stopped himself hiding it. Dick shook his head and leant against the desk, causing the other to cautiously resume what he was doing.

What was playing was one of the older tapes, and Tim paused it in a frame where Red was falling backwards, gun pointing at the camera, Orphan's camera. Tim looked at the image for a few moments before turning to Dick.

"Do you think he knew about where Cass came from?" Tim questioned, placing the mug down and threading his fingers together, "He knew she would dodge, even at such a close distance seeing as it wasn't mid range. He also knew, or at least hoped that she knew sign language. His connections to the League would also make it easier for him to get that sort of information."

Dick pondered it for a moment. Red had been one of the last to stay with Ra's, at least soo close. There was no doubt that Ra's still had a long reach, even if he stopped soo much activity, that they now knew had been after his mistake of allying with Joker. But Red had been part of the defence when the team had to go on that irritable rescue mission.

"Yeah, it is possible. We'll have to put that down somewhere with the possibilities." Dick saw Tim beam from the corner of his eye when he heard the quiet engine of a carefully engineered vehicle pull up into the cave. They both turned to see Conner swinging a bag off his shoulder and putting his helmet on the motorbike's seat.

Tim seemed to brighten even further and leapt out of his seat to greet Conner. Dick smiled, seeing those two getting along was great, the two relating with the lack of a proper parent figure for important moments in their lives. Tim also adored how Conner made himself a hero independent from Superman yet still connected. Conner had been a bit prickly with Tim the first time meeting, but ended up directing that towards Batman himself, getting along with the kid quickly. Dick wasn't too surprised, even he didn't like the thought of the boy becoming the next boy wonder at first.

What happened to Jason had been on all of their minds. The only ones Dick knew that still didn't approve of it were the Harpers, both the original and the clone. For Roy it hit too close to home, being replaced and ripped away from reality, for Will because he and Jason got on well together.

Tim began to drag Conner off towards the gadget section, eager to show off what he had been working on specially for each person, especially Conner since his public appearance. Conner waved towards Dick, who smirked and returned it before turning towards the batcomputer. Quickly putting Tim's theory into the correct folder, Dick put a bookmark on the footage, a little red circle with the Robin logo marking it as Tim's place. 

He then when to his own bookmark and got back to reading the notes on the prisoners. Dick felt any cheer fade away as he resumed his work. He needed to find everything to explain what happened in the prison, to make it clearer. It would have been easier if they could have question Willis but the man was dead. The only one that could know was Red but he vanished after the encounter with Cassandra.

Dick sighed, feeling old as he took a sip of Tim's coffee, ever so glad it wasn't dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe!
> 
> Btw, last chapter I described fear as 'sickly yellow'. It was referring to Yellow Lanterns! Had a friend ask, seeing as I seem to keep using colours to describe things.


	16. NEWS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to let you guys know why I haven't updated.

To put it simply, mental health has gotten in the way. While writing this I was going through a tough time and I've now realised that I have a negative reaction to writing this. Not only have I lost motivation for this but I also 'relapse' to the mindset I was in. I was struggling with the previous few chapters and I can't keep putting myself through that stress. 

However!  
I don't plan on abandoning this work. I will get it completed but for my sake it will be slow and so I've decided to give the readers who may enjoy this fic a heads up. I will be writing other things but the most I'll be doing for the Batman fandom will be oneshots. 

I plan to get chapters ready for summer and start updating again. 

If you also have been feeling negative, maybe grief, then please take some time to separate yourself from the things that are making you feel that way. It may be those games that you play to get away from reality, find some new games. It might be a object, move it out of sight. Maybe rearrange somethings in your home or take another path when going somewhere. That's what I recommend as it's helped me. 

Hope you understand and have a great day!

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to wash your hands and follow safety precautions! And if you're from the future, take care anyway!
> 
> Songs included in Chapter titles are in this playlist:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTa1eK1YvSc&list=PL1sKLGg-n_cjdAT6_uey9gI6PNbzhOQHw


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